


A World Unseen: Vol I

by Jahoan



Series: A World Unseen [1]
Category: Danny Phantom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Good Dumbledore, Grindelwald gave Dumbledore a prophecy, Harry and Danny are cousins, Horcruxes, Phantom and Plasmius are eternal enemies., Phantom is the worst nightmare of a Horcrux, Wandlore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-12-26 12:59:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 60,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12059469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jahoan/pseuds/Jahoan
Summary: There was no way Lily Potter would let her son anywhere near her sister, so she told Dumbledore about her cousin hiding in America. After Halloween 1981, the Fentons gain another son."Monsters bow and demons run in the light of green eyes."





	1. The Boy-Who-Lived in the Town of the Dead

If you were to ask anyone who lived in Amity Park, they would say that the Fentons were a family of “crackpot ghost hunters”, an argument that would invariably fall on deaf ears for the family in question. Both had known about the magic in the world since they born. Jack had come to America after completing his education at Hogwarts, so he could explore the possibilities of non-magical technology without worry of the political climate in Wizarding Britain. Maddie’s story was much the same. Jack and Maddie met in college, surprisingly having never noticed one another in despite being in the same year, along with their mutual American friend Vlad Masters. Their college years were spent studying No-maj ghost stories, and set about finding ways to analyse and examine what defies conventional logic without relying on magic. In many ways, they were Unspeakables.

Jack and Maddie had gotten married right out of college, and were shortly thereafter blessed with their daughter Jasmine, known to everyone as Jazz. Their second child came two years later, on an unusually cold Halloween night. Maddie had been worried about her son’s health, due to complications that had appeared around that time. However, Danny had been born healthy, and they now had two beautiful children to dote on and, in Jack’s case, blather on about ghosts to.

Only a select few beings could have predicted what was to happen on the night after Danny’s second birthday, a night that would change numerous lives in ways that could only be seen in hindsight and ‘what if’s.

In a burst of golden fire, two figures appeared down the street from Fenton Works, the unmistakable home of the Fenton family. One figure was an old man, dressed in a purple velvet robe. His beard was white as snow and long enough that he could tuck it into his belt. On his head sat a triangular cap that matched the rest of his wardrobe. A pair of gold-rimmed half-moon spectacles sat perched on his nose, which looked to have been broken at least once. The second figure was far more noticeable, standing at least ten feet tall and built like a mountain. Long tangles of bushy black hair and beard hid most of his face, he had hands the size of dustbin lids and his feet in their leather boots were like baby dolphins. In his vast, muscular arms he was holding a bundle of blankets. The elder wizard drew a device that appeared to be a large lighter out of his robe, and clicked it, causing the glow of the street lights and even the neon of the Fenton Works sign to fly into the contraption.

They were met by a third, a gray tabby cat with square markings around her eyes that mimicked glasses. “I should have known that you would be here, Professor McGonagall.” Albus Dumbledore said, looking down at the cat, which quickly rose into an emerald clad witch with stern features. “Good evening, Professor Dumbledore, Hagrid” she greeted, before looking at the bundle in the latter’s hands. “So, the rumors are true?” She asked.

“Yes indeed, the good, and the bad.” The giant of a man handed the bundle to Dumbledore, who took it into his arms with care.

“You two may as well go and join the celebrations. I will handle this myself.” Dumbledore told his compatriots. A beautiful song trilled through the air, as a gold and red bird flew down to land on Hagrid’s shoulder. “Fawkes will take you back back to Hogwarts.” The phoenix trilled in acknowledgement, before alighting in flame. When the blaze dissipated, there was no trace of the half-giant and witch.

Dumbledore strode up to the front door of Fenton Works, and knocked softly three times. The door was answered by the imposing figure of Jack Fenton, clad in a set of pink pajamas with matching nightcap.

“Professor Dumbledore.” He said, a look of surprise on his face. He hadn’t seen the professor in decades, ever since he had left Britain to study abroad. “What brings you here at this time of night?”

“I’m afraid some grave news regarding your cousin, Lily.” Jack’s expression darkened.

“Come on in.” The Fenton patriarch gestured.

Dumbledore led him to the couch, and they both sat down. It was only then that the larger man noticed the bundle in the elderly headmaster’s arms. “Is that--” He began, only for the robed wizard to cut him off by pulling down part of the blanket to reveal a small face with a visible tuft of raven hair and a prominent scar like a stylized lightning bolt.

“On Halloween night, Lord Voldemort attacked the Potters. James and Lily were killed, but young Harry survived. Whatever happened in Godric’s Hollow, it stripped Voldemort of his body. As the closest blood relatives on both sides of his family, I believe Harry would be safest in your care.” Dumbledore explained.

“Wait, both sides of his family?” Jack asked, slightly bewildered.

“You’re wife’s maiden name is Potter.” He reminded him.

“Huh, and I thought I’d escaped the small world deal when I crossed the pond.” Jack commented.

“Indeed, I do find it somewhat funny the kinds of coincidences life throws our way.” Albus chuckled.

Their brief moment of humor was interrupted by a piercing wail that any parent quickly became familiar with. The bags under Jack’s eyes seemed to drag down at the sound.  
“That would be Danny. I better go see what’s got him upset this time.” Jack said, getting up and moving to the stairs. Dumbledore followed, Harry still in his arms, now whimpering slightly. They got to the nursery where the youngest Fenton was restless. Jack picked his tiny frame up and started rocking him tenderly, and Dumbledore asked if he would like him to conjure a crib for Harry. Jack turned down his offer, suggesting that the two children share. As Harry joined Danny in the crib, Danny’s wail quieted into peaceful sleep. The two looked like twin brothers.

Only Dumbledore knew of the protective charms that were sealed by that action, ensuring that Voldemort could not touch him without the consequences being most severe.

“I will be checking up on you on a regular basis, and I can guarantee that I will see you in eight years time with a letter in hand.” Dumbledore told Jack on the front steps. Jack’s eyes widened in realization.

“So, my little princess is going to Hogwarts.” He said with a hint of pride.

“I will have to check to be sure, but I do believe both of your children will make fine additions to the magical world.” Dumbledore reassured him. “And do make sure Mrs. Fenton gets this letter.” He said, handing off a letter laced with a mild compulsion that would insure it got to its recipient, a measure that had to be taken when dealing with someone as forgetful as Jack Fenton could be.

As Jack went inside, Dumbledore strode down the street to a nearby alley. “Everything’s the way it’s supposed to be.” He breathed, before turning on the spot and disappearing with a crack.

In another distant place, beyond the view of mortals, a figure in a violet cloak smiled, the words he would have said already spoken.


	2. Journey to Hogwarts

**_July 14, 1991; Number 14 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London._ **

 

Two down from the Black family ancestral home, another wizarding family had taken up residence. In nineteen eighty-seven, the Fenton Family had moved back to England, getting rather tight-lipped if anyone asked why they had chosen to move.

To muggles, the house was identical to the rest of the street, although curiously, anyone who attempted to go up the front steps would find themselves remembering something urgent to do right that moment.

To magicals, there was no such effect, but they would be surprised by the number and power of the wards on the building, rivalling that of number twelve, if slightly less malicious. In front of the house was the family car, a large, metallic gray SUV with stylized halloween ghosts on the hub cabs.

That morning, a trio of barn owls flew to the island, each one carrying a letter in their talons. The Fentons were in the kitchen, just finishing their breakfasts when the owls arrived, immediately bringing cheers.

The eldest of the Fenton children, Jasmine would be going into her third year at Hogwarts. Jack had taken her to Diagon Alley while Maddie watched over the boys, not wanting to cause a commotion among the nation with Harry Potter’s appearance before it was time to go to Hogwarts. Jazz had spent the following week going on about the supplies she had picked up, like her willow and unicorn hair wand which had lit up the moment she entered the shop.

That first trip to King’s Cross Station they had made sure Harry’s scar was covered by his messy, tousled hair, while Danny wore a hoodie to cover the shock of white he had carried since he was eight, which had resisted all magical and most mundane attempts to disguise it. Thankfully, the disguises worked, and they saw Jazz off with no problems.

Jack had been ecstatic when he learned that his daughter had gone to Ravenclaw, following in her father’s footsteps.

Jazz sent home letters every week, talking about everything she was experiencing at Hogwarts, and expressing a great deal of consternation at the antics of the Weasley twins, who were described as “worse than Harry and Danny put together”.  The raven-haired boys took offense to this, and spent the following summer pranking their elder sibling on a weekly basis. Her second year had gone much the same.

Now, Harry and Danny would finally be attending Hogwarts. The family made plans to go to Diagon Alley for Harry’s birthday, and as the month ended, the family of five made their way to the Leaky Cauldron.

 

**_July 31, 1991_ **

The Fentons returned home exhausted but satisfied with their excursion. Both boys now had all their Hogwarts supplies, and Fenton Works was now home to two new pets, Hedwig the Snowy Owl, and a handsome Barn Owl named Ghost, whose perches sat next to that of Spooky, the Great Grey family owl.

The children had settled in the drawing room to go over some of their purchases. Jazz was pouring through her Arithmancy textbook, while Harry and Danny were looking at their newly-purchased wands with unreadable expressions.

_“Ah, Jack Fenton, walnut and unicorn hair, fourteen inches, somewhat bendy. Has it served you well?” Ollivander asked as they entered the shop, his silver gaze unblinking._

_Danny’s father replied boisterously, “Hasn’t failed me once!”_

_Ollander turned his gaze to his mother. “Madeline Fenton, ash and dragon heartstring, twelve inches, whippy.” She nodded, a little uncomfortable._

_“And Jasmine Fenton, willow and dragon heartstring, eleven inches, rather whippy, the first wand you picked up.” Jazz replied with a slight smile of remembrance._

_His gaze turned to Harry. “Ah yes,” he said. “Yes, yes. I thought_ _I’d be seeing you soon. Harry Potter.” It wasn’t a question. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”_

_Mr Ollivander moved closer to Harry. Harry wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy._

_“Your father, on the other hand, favoured a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favoured it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.”_

_Mr Ollivander had come so close that he and Harry were almost nose to nose. Harry could see himself reflected in those misty eyes._

_“And that’s where …”_

_Mr Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harry’s forehead with a long, white finger._

_“I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he said softly. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands ... Well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do …” He trailed off before refocusing._

_“Well, now – Mr Potter. Let me see.” He pulled a long tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. “Which is your wand arm?”_

_“Er – well, I’m right-handed,” said Harry._

_“Hold out your arm. That’s it.” He measured Harry from shoulder to finger, then wrist to elbow, shoulder to floor, knee to armpit and round his head. As he measured, he said, “Every Ollivander wand has a core of a powerful magical substance, Mr Potter. We use unicorn hairs, phoenix tail feathers and the heartstrings of dragons. No two Ollivander wands are the same, just as no two unicorns, dragons or phoenixes are quite the same. And of course, you will never get such good results with another wizard’s wand.”_

_Danny suddenly realised that the tape measure, which was measuring between Harry’s nostrils, was doing this on its own. Mr Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes._

_“That will do,” he said, and the tape measure crumpled into a heap on the floor. “Right then, Mr Potter. Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave.”_  
_Harry took the wand and waved it around a bit, but Mr Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once._

_“Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try- “_

_Harry tried – but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr Ollivander._

_“No, no – here, ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out.”_  
_Harry tried. And tried. He had no idea what Mr Ollivander was waiting for. The pile of tried wands was mounting higher and higher on the spindly chair, but the more wands Mr Ollivander pulled from the shelves, the happier he seemed to become._

_“Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”_

_Harry took the wand. He raised the wand above his head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Danny’s parents whooped and clapped and Mr Ollivander cried, “Oh, bravo! Yes, indeed, oh, very good. Well, well, well ... how curious ... how very curious …”_  
_He put Harry’s wand back into its box and wrapped it in brown paper, still muttering, “Curious ... curious …”_

_“Sorry,” said Harry, “but what’s curious?”_

_Mr Ollivander fixed Harry with his pale stare._

_“I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar.”_  
_Harry swallowed. The Fentons looked uncomfortable._

_“Yes, thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember ... I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter ... After all, He Who Must Not Be Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.”_

_He repeated the process for Danny, going through even more wands with even more destructive results. The shelves had been repaired three times, and the spindly chair had been reduced to ash, requiring a new one to be conjured._

_Finally, after about twelve minutes searching the shelves, Ollivander appeared with a box containing a light wand with jet black spiral around the handle._

_“Elder and phoenix feather, fourteen inches, pliable.” Danny picked up the wand, and felt a tingle of hot and cold run up his fingertips. He waved the wand, and a fountain of green and blue sparks shot into the air._

_“Interesting. Elder is a difficult wood to work with, and it takes a highly unusual person to match an elder wand. I think we can expect great things from you as well, Mr Fenton.” Danny felt a brief shiver go through him._

_They paid seven galleons each for their wands, and shelled out an additional forty for wrist holsters and polishing kits for both of them._

Shaking themselves out of their stupor, the cousins cracked open their spellbooks, and started practicing the wand-lighting charm. Danny had it down by the third try, Harry the fifth. Pretty soon they were competing to see who could make their’s brighter.

“ _Lumos Maxima!”_ Jazz interrupted, blinding both boys with the light from her own wand. It took a few minutes for them to recover their eyesight, and by then they were being called down for dinner.

 

**_September 1, 1991, King’s Cross Station, London._ **

The month of August had passed by in a blur, and on the first of September, the Fenton clan had piled into their car with their Hogwarts trunks, and made their way to Kings Cross Station. This year, Danny had decided to forgo his usual hoodie, and had settled for a red turtleneck under his favorite t-shirt, while Harry had chosen a green sweater that matched his eyes.

After a tearful goodbye (on their parents part), Harry and Danny found an empty compartment away from Jazz, who was chatting with some of her fellow Ravenclaws.

Just after eleven o’clock, once the train was moving, their compartment received their first visitors, a trio of redheads, two of which were clearly twins.

“D’you guys mind, everywhere else is full.” The youngest of the trio spoke up.

“Sure, we’ve got plenty of room.” Harry gestured.

“I’m Ron by the way, Ron Weasley.” The redhead spoke.

“Fred and George, at your service.” The twins said.

“Danny Fenton, and this is my cousin Harry.” Danny said, shaking his hand. The trio’s eyes lit up in reconcognition.

“Harry, as in Harry Potter?” Harry brushed his messy hair up to reveal the lightning bolt scar.

“Wicked.” Ron breathed.

“Well, we’ll see you later then, Lee’s showing off his tarantula in the middle of the train.” Ron gave an involuntary shudder. Harry and Danny didn’t much care for spiders, outside of those in comic books.

After the twins had left, Ron noticed Danny’s hair. “How did you get that stripe in your hair?”

“Accidental magic, never figured out how to undo it.” Danny hastily replied, wanting to get off the topic as quickly as possible.

Distraction came soon enough in the form of the sweets trolley. Danny was abruptly reminded that he hadn’t eaten breakfast in his anxiousness to get to the Express. Thankfully, Harry had remembered to take some galleons and they were soon making their way through a pile of Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, Pumpkin Pasties, and Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, washed down with iced pumpkin juice.

Danny opened one of the Chocolate Frogs, his eye was drawn to the card that came with it. The picture was of a youthful witch with glowing green eyes and silvery-white hair, clad in 11th century armor and holding a wand and a shield. The shield was embossed with an image of a snake wrapped around a glyph that looked like a capital letter D with a cutout at the bottom making the negative space look like a letter P. The stem of the D looked wispy, almost like a ghost.

The title read: Aisling Peverell. Danny turned it over and read the description.

_This medieval witch possessed magical abilities enabling her to slay the demon Plasmius in a battle that proved fatal on both sides. She was widely known by the moniker of “Phantom”._

“Huh, Harry, check this out.” Danny said, handing the card to his cousin, who read over it before handing it to Ron.

“I’ve...never seen this card before.” Ron admitted. “Must be a new one.” Ron handed it back to Danny, who pocketed it.

They were interrupted from their talk of families and Chocolate Frog Card collections by a knock on their compartment door, which opened to reveal a round-faced boy with a nervous and miserable expression plastered on his face.

“Sorry, but have you seen a toad at all?” The boy asked.

Danny shifted his foot and found it hitting a squishy mass, which gave a loud croak. Danny reached down and plucked a mottled brown toad from the floor. The sandy-haired boy’s face lit up.

“Trevor!” Danny handed the toad over to him.

“You might want to get a box for him if he keeps trying to get away.” Harry advised.

“Thanks.” He muttered. Danny noticed his shaky countenance, and gestured for Ron to scoot over a bit before inviting him to join them.

“Okay, introductions.” Harry broke the ice. “I’m Harry, that’s Ron, and the kid with the white stripe in his hair is my cousin Danny.”

“N-Neville Longbottom.” Neville stuttered. Danny picked a pumpkin pasty from the mound of sweets and handed it to Neville, who took it with a thankful nod.

“So, why a toad?” Harry asked. He had heard Hagrid mention in Diagon Alley that they had gone out of style as pets.

“My great uncle Algie got him for me when I got my Hogwarts letter. I haven’t been able to keep track of him though.” Neville answered shyly.

“Well, we both got owls.” Danny gestured to Hedwig and Ghost, who were currently dozing.

“All I’ve got is Scabbers.” He pointed to the gray rat resting on his leg. “He might have died and you wouldn’t know the difference.” He said in disgust. “I tried to turn him yellow yesterday, to make him more interesting, but the spell didn’t work. I’ll show you, look.” He rummaged around in his trunk and pulled out a battered-looking wand. It was chipped in places and something white was poking out of the end.

“Unicorn hair’s nearly poking out.”

“I don’t think that’s entirely safe.” Harry noted.

Ron waved him off. “Anyway--”

He had just raised his wand when the compartment door slip open. A girl already in her new Hogwarts robes was standing there.

“Oh, Neville, you found your toad.” She noted in a matter-of-fact tone. She had large, bushy hair, brown eyes, and large front teeth. She looked at the wand in Ron’s hand.

“Oh, are you doing magic? Let’s see it then.” She said in a bossy tone. She sat down, and Ron looked taken aback.

“Uh, alright.” he cleared his throat. “Sunshine daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid, fat rat yellow.”  He waved his wand, but nothing happened. Scabbers was the same gray he was previously, and was still asleep.

“Are you sure that’s a real spell?” Said the girl.”Well it’s not very good is it.”

“Ron, I think your brothers were having you on. The color change charm is _Colovaria._ ” Danny told him bluntly. The girl nodded like she had known it already, before continuing like she had been uninterrupted.

“I’ve tried a few simple spells and they’ve all worked for me. No one in my family is magic at all. It was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean it’s the very best school of witchcraft and wizardry there is I’ve heard. I’ve learned all our course books by heart, of course. I just hope it will be enough. I’m Hermione Granger by the way, who are you?” She somehow managed to say it all in a single breath.

Danny quickly got the impression Hermione would get along with Jazz like a house on fire. Ron had the expression of someone who had not read all their course books, as did Neville. The cousins had read through their books for Potions and Charms, but had only read the first few chapters for the rest. Danny of course had read the Astronomy text front to back several times.

“I’m Ron Weasley” Ron muttered.

“Harry Potter” said Harry.

“Are you really?” Said Hermione. ‘I know all about you, of course. I got a few extra books for background reading, and your in _Modern Magical History,_ and _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. Those books get nothing right.” Harry said with disgust in his voice. “I mean, it wasn’t like anyone who can remember it was actually there. All I remember is a flash green light and a lot of screaming.” That silenced the compartment for a good minute.

“So…” Hermione began hesitantly. “Do either of you have any idea what House you’ll be in? I’ve been asking around and I hope I’m in Gryffindor. It sounds by far the best. I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I suppose Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad.”

Danny’s face with blank at the thought of her being in the same house as Jazz.

“Anyway, you had better change into your robes. I expect we’ll be there soon.” She walked off, only to return a second later.

“Oh, I never got your name.” She said, looking at Danny.

“Danny Fenton, Harry’s cousin and overprotective sibling figure.” Danny said.

“Why is your hair white?” She asked.

“Accidental magic.” He answered, with a little more anger than he had intended. Hermione shrugged and walked off. Danny closed the door after her.

“Well, Whatever House I’m in I hope she’s not in it.” Said Ron.

“Hasn’t all your family been in Gryffindor?” Danny asked, remembering the complaints about the Weasley twins that Jazz had sent on a near weekly basis.

Gloom settled on Ron. “All my brothers, and mum and dad. I don’t what they’ll say if I’m not. I don’t suppose Ravenclaw would be too bad, but imagine if they put me in Slytherin. That’s the House Vol-I mean, You-Know-Who, was in.”

“I’ll probably be in Hufflepuff.” Spoke Neville, reminding them of his presence.

“Why do you say that?” Ron asked.

“I’m not brave, and I’m not good at magic.” he said glumly.

“You know, I think the ends of Scabbers’ whiskers are a little bit lighter.” Harry said, trying to take their minds off Houses.”

Danny gave his two cents. “Well, mum was in Gryffindor, dad was a Ravenclaw, and Jazz is as well, so I think I’ll see what happens.”

“So, what do your oldest brothers do now that their out of school?” Harry asked Ron.

“Charlie’s in Romania studying dragons, and Bill is in Egypt doing something for Gringotts.” He replied. “Did you hear about Gringotts, it been all over the Daily Prophet. Someone tried to rob a high-security vault.”

“Did they get out alive?” Danny asked. Goblins took their security very seriously, and the chances of them getting away were slim to none.

“That’s the thing, they haven’t been caught. My dad says it must have been a powerful dark wizard to get around Gringotts, but I don’t think they took anything. That’s what’s odd.Course, everyone gets scared when something like this happens, in case You-Know-Who’s behind it.

A shiver of fear ran down Danny’s back. The wizarding world and the Fentons had very different meanings for “You-Know-Who”, and he felt needles at his throat at the thought. He could tell Harry was feeling something similar.

“What’s your Quidditch team?” Ron asked.

“Puddlemere United.” Harry replied. Danny decided to sit this one out. He had never been one for sports, one of the few noticeable differences between the cousins. Oh, he exercised and kept himself in shape, but he never had the necessary competitive edge.

Their talk of Quidditch was once again interrupted, only this time by a trio. Two were rather like gorillas in stature, while he recognized the middle one from their trip to Diagon Alley. The pale boy from Madam Malkin’s, who had spent a one-sided conversation talking about nothing but his father and Slytherin House.

“Is it true? They’re saying all down the train that Harry Potter’s in this compartment. So, it’s you, is it?” He spoke, an air of pure, undiluted superiority about him.

Both Harry and Danny stood up, Danny ready to get in front of him at a moment’s notice.

“Yes” said Harry, looking at the blonde’s bodyguards. The pale boy noticed.

“Oh, this Crabbe and this is Goyle.” He noted carelessly. “And I’m Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.”

Ron gave a slight cough that might have been hiding a snigger, and the first thought to go through Danny’s head was ‘Do you take your martinis shaken, not stirred?’.

“Think my name’s funny, don’t you.” He glared at Ron. “No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford.” He turned back to Harry.

“You’ll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don’t want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there.” He held out his hand to shake Harry’s, but Harry didn’t take it. If looks could kill, Draco would be a pile of ash under the intensity of Danny’s glare.

“I think we can tell the who the wrong sort are for ourselves, thanks.” Harry replied coolly, giving a subtle nod to Danny.

Malfoy didn’t go red, but a pink tinge crossed his cheeks. Danny wondered if that was healthy.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Potter.” He said slowly. “Unless you’re a bit politer, you’ll go the same way as your parents. They didn’t know what was good for them either.”

Danny grit his teeth.

“You hang around with the Weasleys and Longbottom. And it’ll rub off on you.”

Everyone in the compartment was now standing with equally enraged expressions.

“Say that again.” Ron said, his face as red as his hair.

“Oh, you’re going to fight me are you?” Malfoy sneered. The compartment door slammed shut behind Draco, cutting him off from his bodyguards. Before he could turn around, he found himself pressed against the glass, the tip of a wand digging into the underside of his chin.

“If you want to reach the school in one piece. I suggest you leave.” Danny growled, his eyes cold as ice. The compartment door slid open, and Malfoy stumbled back, landing at his bodyguard’s feet.

“And stay out!” Danny shouted, slamming the door shut.

“Ugh. Malfoys.” Danny sat back down, the rest following suit.

“What has been going on?” Hermione demanding, having been drawn back to their compartment by the ruckus.

“Just a run in with the latest generation of Malfoy.” Harry said, picking up a licorice wand and giving it to Danny, who took it with a silent thanks.

“You haven’t been fighting have you? You’ll get in trouble before we even get there.” She scolded.

“Not fighting, just taking trouble down a few pegs.” Danny grunted.

“I came here because people were running up and down the halls acting very childishly.” She said.

“Well, they are children.” Harry quipped, only to receive a glare that quickly silenced him.

“I asked the conductor when we would be arriving and he said it would be soon, so you’d best get your robes on.” She turned to leave. “And you’ve got dirt on your nose.” She told Ron, who glared at her as she left, before rubbing the dirt off his nose with his jacket sleeve.

All the boys were able to slip their robes on over their normal clothing, after taking off their jackets first, of course.

A voice erupted over the loudspeakers. “We will be arriving at Hogwarts in five minutes time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken separately.”

Danny looked out the window, and could make out dark mountains and forests under a purple sky. In the distance, he could make out some yellow lights, presumably those of Hogwarts itself. The party of four crammed into the throng of people in the corridor.

The train slowed to a stop, and they all made their way to a dark platform. The night air was chilly, but not uncomfortable for Danny. His cousin wasn’t so lucky, and was shivering.

A light came bobbing up to them, and a familiar voice called out. “Firs’ years! Firs’ years! Over here!” Hagrid’s voice boomed.

The crowd of students in unmarked robes shuffled in the giant man’s direction. Trevor made another bid for freedom, but was stopped by Danny, who caught the toad mid-jump. They stopped at what Danny could make out as a boathouse. A small fleet’s worth of little boats were bobbing in the water.

“No more-n four to a boat!” He ordered. Harry, Danny, Ron and Neville took up the one at the front, and were joined by Hagrid, still holding the lantern aloft.

“Ho!” the boats started moving at Hagrid’s command. They crossed a large lake, over which the glittering stars of the night sky could be seen.

Several gasps came from the first-years. Danny looked down from the starscape to see that Hogwarts Castle had come into view. The stone castle made an imposing silhouette against the night sky and surrounding mountains and forest.

The little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy which hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of under-ground harbour, where they clambered out onto the rocks.

The mass of black robes scrambled up a long and winding staircase, eventually coming up to the massive wooden front doors. Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

 


	3. Welcome to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter are from Chapter Seven of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s/Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Danny’s first thought was that this was not someone to cross. 

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall,” said Hagrid.

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

She pulled the door wide. The Entrance Hall was so big you could have fitted the whole of the Fenton’s house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors. 

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first-years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” 

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron’s still-smudged nose. Harry was nervously trying to flatten his hair.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”  
She left the chamber. Danny brushed the hair out of his eyes.

”How exactly do they sort us into houses?” Neville asked Ron.

“Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.” 

Danny looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learnt and wondering which one she’d need.

“I know it involves a hat.” Danny told Neville, who looked confused.

Then something happened which made him jump about a foot in the air – several people behind him screamed. A shiver went up Danny’s spine like a rush of cold air.

“What the –?”

He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?” A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years. Nobody answered. 

“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them.

“About to be sorted, I suppose?”

A few people nodded mutely.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said the Friar. “My old house, you know.”

“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.” Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first-years, “and follow me.”

Danny took the lead, followed by Harry, Ron, and Neville, and they walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Jazz’s letters did not do the place justice. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting.

Professor McGonagall led the first-years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Danny looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”

 “I knew that.” Danny half-whispered.

It was hard to believe there was a ceiling there at all, and that the Great Hall didn’t simply open out into the heavens.

Danny looked down as he saw Professor McGonagall set a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard’s hat, which was ancient and tattered. For a few seconds, there was silence, and then, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the cloth folded in two places to look like eyes.

The hat began to sing.

"Oh you may not think I'm pretty,  
But don't judge on what you see,   
I'll eat myself if you can find   
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,   
Your top hats sleek and tall,   
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat   
And I can cap them all. 

There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,   
So try me on and I will tell you   
Where you ought to be. 

You might belong in Gryffindor,  
Where dwell the brave at heart,   
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry   
Set Gryffindors apart; 

You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil; 

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,  
if you've a ready mind,   
Where those of wit and learning,   
Will always find their kind; 

Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends,   
Those cunning folks use any means   
To achieve their ends. 

So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!   
You're in safe hands (though I have none)   
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the Hat finished its song, while Danny was remembering hearing his sister singing in the shower. They had about the same quality when it came to singing, that is, next to none at all.

The Hat bowed to each of the four tables, and then became still once again.

“So, we’ve just got to try on the hat?” Ron whispered to Harry. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.” Harry had smiled weakly at that.

Professor McGonagall strode forward, a long roll of parchment in her hand.

“When I call your name, you will put on the Hat, and sit on the stool to be sorted.” She said.

“Abbott, Hannah” A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line and put on the Hat, which fell over her eyes, and sat down.

A moment’s pause.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” Shouted the Hat. The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff Table. The Ghost of the Fat Friar was waving merrily at her.

“Bones, Susan”

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The girl with long brown braided hair joined Hannah at the Hufflepuff Table.

“Boot, Terry”

“RAVENCLAW!” Danny followed the path of the boy to the Ravenclaw Table on the left, and locked eyes with his sister, who gave a slight nod of assurance.

“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw too, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers.

“Bulstrode, Millicent” became the first new Slytherin. The trollish girl joined the rather unpleasant-looking lot on the far right table.

After “Entwhistle, Kevin” joined Hufflepuff, Danny heard his name called.

“Fenton, Daniel.” Danny stumbled to the stool, and felt the hat cover his eyes. He suddenly heard a voice in his head.

_“Oh, very interesting. Where ever shall I place you. You know cunning, and have loyalty in spades. Ah, but there it is, that willingness to stand in the face of fear without flinching. There is only place for that.-_ GRYFFINDOR” The Hat shouted out, and he went to the Gryffindor Table, catching a look from Jazz that was seemed to be both proud and disappointed at the same time.

“Finch-Fletchley, Justin” went to Hufflepuff, while “Finnegan, Seamus” joined him in Gryffindor.

“Goldstein, Anthony” went to Ravenclaw after a moment, while “Goyle, Gregory” was sent to Slytherin. It was a little over four minutes before “Granger, Hermione” was sitting across from him at the Gryffindor Table.

Neville went to Gryffindor after another four minutes on the stood. From his expression, it seemed he was arguing with the Hat before sighing as it called out “GRYFFINDOR!” Neville ran off, still wearing the Hat, having to double back amid gales of laughter to give it “MacDougal, Morag”.

Malfoy swaggered forward when his name was called after “Macmillan, Ernest”, and had his wish granted when the Hat had barely touched his hair, declaring “SLYTHERIN!” Danny though it did it so quick to avoid getting greasy from it. He joined his friends Crabbe and Goyle looking very pleased.

After the Patil twins of Padma and Pavarti went to Ravenclaw and Gryffindor respectively, followed by “Perks, Sally-Anne”, Harry’s name was called.

“Potter, Harry” the hall broke out into whispers. Danny sent a reassuring smile his way, and he could tell his sister was doing the same. Danny checked his watch. It took about two agonizing minutes, but finally the Hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR!”

Harry walked shakily towards his cousin, who gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. Harry sat next to Danny opposite of Neville. The Weasley twins were shouting “We got Potter!” and congratulations were given like birthday presents.

They looked at the Head Table properly, where the remaining first-years were waiting to be sorted. Several of the teachers were beaming at Harry, who seemed to be trying to make himself smaller by slouching.

Pretty soon, there were only four students left. “Thomas, Dean” joined them in Gryffindor, while Ravenclaw was added to by “Turpin, Lisa”. And then it was Ron’s turn. The youngest Weasley brother looked rather green by now. Danny noted Harry crossing his fingers under the table. As moment later, the Hat shouted “GRYFFINDOR!” and he joined the table next to Harry.

“Well done Ron, excellent.” Percy the Prefect said from across the table as the last student went up.

“Zabini, Blaise” rounded out the intake for Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll, and took the Sorting Hat away. Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, beaming at the students with his arms wide.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words, and here they are. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.” He sat back down, and everybody clapped, some more confusedly than others.

“Is he-- a bit mad?” Harry tentatively asked Percy.

“Mad, he’s a genius! Best wizard in the world! But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?”

The dishes in front of them had piled high with food. The cousins piled their plates high and dug in. The ghost floating at the table introduced himself.

“Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.” Danny nodded between bites of steak.

“I know who you are.” Ron said suddenly. “My brothers told me about you. You’re Nearly-Headless Nick!”

“I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-” The ghost began, only to be interrupted by Seamus Finnigan.

“ _Nearly-_ Headless? How can you be Nearly-Headless?” Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted it to.

“Like this.” He said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell onto his shoulder, as if it were on a hinge. Clearly someone had tried to behead him, but did a very bad job of it, as there was still a couple inches of flesh holding it on. 

Danny gulped as his hand went to his throat.

Looking pleased at the shocked looks around him, Sir Nicholas swung his head back onto his neck, coughed, and said, “So, new Gryffindors. I hope you’re going to help us win the House Championship this year. GRyffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row. The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable. He’s the Slytherin ghost.”

Danny looked over at the Slytherin Table, and saw the blank-eyed ghost clad in rattling chains. A wave of emotion that was not his own passed through him, bitterness and disappointment. The feeling passed as quickly as it came.

“How did he get covered in blood?” Seamus asked.

“I’ve never asked.” said Sir Nicholas delicately.

“And I don’t think it would a good idea to do so.” Harry chipped in. Danny smiled slightly.

When everyone had eaten their fill of dinner, the remains of their meal faded from the golden plates, leaving them sparkling clean for the desserts, which were equally mountainous and impressive. Harry helped himself to a large helping of treacle tart while Danny had a plate full of pumpkin.

The talk of the table soon turned to families.

“I’m half and half. Me dad’s a Muggle; Mam’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out after the wedding.” Seamus said.

“What about you Neville?” Asked Ron.

“Well, my gran brought me up, and she’s a witch.” Said Neville. “But my family thought I was all muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me. He pushed me off the end of Blackpool Pier once. I nearly drowned. But, nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came ‘round for dinner and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles, when my Great Aunt Enid offered him a meringue, and he accidently let go. But I bounced all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased. Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here. They thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased, he bought me my toad.”

Danny could only shake his head disapprovingly at the methods some families would go to prove their children had magic. Then his mind made the connection between “Great Uncle Algie” getting Neville a toad. It took all of Danny’s willpower not to facepalm then and there at the pun.

Percy and Hermione were caught up talking about lessons, and he realized that being in Gryffindor did not protect him from his sister’s personality.

“I do hope they start right away. There’s so much to learn. I’m particularly interested in Transfiguration, you know, turning something into something else. Of course, it’s supposed to be very difficult.” Hermione was saying.

“You’ll be starting small, just matches to needles and that sort of thing.” Percy had replied.

A sudden movement from his side caught Danny’s attention, and he turned to see his cousin wincing.

“Ouch.” He clapped a hand to his forehead, over his scar. Danny followed his line of sight to the Head Table, specifically Professors Snape and Quirrell, the latter of whom immediately gave Danny a sense of _wrongness_ about him.

“Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” Harry asked Danny.

“I’m pretty sure that’s Professor Snape, he matches the description Jazz gave in her letters.” Danny answered, not taking his eyes off of the back of Professor Quirrell’s turban.

Soon, the desserts too were finished, and vanished like the remains of dinner before. Dumbledore stood up.

“Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forests on the grounds are forbidden to all pupils, and a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. “I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the Caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House Teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out-of-bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow at the last statement. What made the corridor so deadly this year? Jazz would certainly berate him for it, but he was going to get to the bottom of it.

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song.” cried Dumbledore. Danny noticed all the teachers now wearing rather fixed smiles, of the ‘grin and bear it because that’s the only option’ variety. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables, and twisted itself snakelike into words.

“Everyone pick their favorite tune.” said Dumbledore. “And off we go!” And the school bellowed.

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,   
Whether we be old and bald,   
Or young with scabby knees,   
Our heads could do with filling,   
With some interesting stuff,   
For now they're bare and full of air,   
Dead flies and bits of fluff,   
So teach us things worth knowing,   
Bring back what we've forgot,   
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,   
And learn until our brains all rot.”

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted the lines with his wand, and when it it was done he was one of the ones who clapped loudest.

“Ah, music.” He said, wiping a tear from his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here.” He sighed.”And now, bedtime! Off you trot.”

The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. The portraits along the walls pointed as whispered as they passed, annoying Danny to no end. They crossed through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, yawning and dragging their feet. Suddenly, they came to a halt where a bundle of walking sticks were floating in midair.

A chill ran up Danny’s spine.

As Percy took a step towards them they started hurling themselves at him.

“Peeves.” The Prefect whispered to the first-years.

‘Oh right, the poltergeist.’ Danny thought, once again remembering Jazz's letters.

“Peeves.” Percy spoke up. “Show yourself.”

A loud, rude sound, much like a whoopee cushion, answered. 

“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?” There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, beady black eyes and an atrocious fashion sense appeared, holding the walking sticks.

“Ohhhh.” He said with an evil cackle. “‘Ickle firsties, what fun.”  He suddenly swooped at them, causing them all to duck. Then hs caught sight of Danny, and he backpedaled to a stop before hurling the entire bundle at Danny before zipping off without a word, rattling suits of armor in his wake. Danny sidestepped the walking sticks, which wound up knocking Neville down.

“Sorry about that.” Danny said sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“You’ll want to watch out for Peeves. The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him. He won’t even listen to us Prefects.” Percy informed them. “Ah, here we are.”

At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

“Password.” She said.

“Caput Draconis” responded Percy. The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it. Danny helped Neville get a leg up to get through.

They found themselves in the Gryffindor Common Room, a cozy, round room full of squashy armchairs. Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory, and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase, they were clearly bunked in a tower, they found their beds. 

Six four-poster beds, hung with deep red velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they got into their pajamas. Of course, Neville noticed something just before they go into bed.

“What happened to your neck?” He asked Danny tentatively.

On his neck and collar were a set of four thin red scars. Danny’s eyes hardened.

“None of your concern.” He said coldly, before shutting the curtains and falling into bed.

His dreams were not happy ones, and he awoke more tired than when he went to bed.


	4. The First Week

**_Monday, September 2, 1991, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ **

Danny quickly determined that Monday mornings would be just short of unbearable. While he had first period free, his second period of the day was Defense Against the Dark Arts, where he couldn’t shake the sense of  _ wrongness _ he felt in Quirrell’s presence. 

It didn’t help that he was useless as a teacher, stuttering at every other word he spoke, and acting like his own shadow would jump out and attack him at any moment.

The fact that the first lesson was about defending against snails was another point against it.

Third period was History of Magic, during which Danny caught up on some much needed sleep. Not even the chill he felt around ghosts was able to counter the droning voice of Professor Binns. Thankfully Harry kept Hermione from prodding him awake before class was over.

After lunch in the Great Hall, fourth period Herbology was a breath of fresh air. It was also their first practical exposure to magic, as Professor Sprout demonstrated the Fire-making Charm and Severing Charm to the class, describing them as the basic spells of a Herbologist. She also showed of a Venomous Tentacula and a Dittany plant to demonstrate the danger and rewards of Herbology.

The last period of the day was Transfiguration, where Professor McGonagall gave the class a stern talking-to the moment they had all sat down.

“Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts,” She said. “Anyone messing around in my class will leave and nt come back. You have been warned.”

She proceeded to change her desk into a pig and back again. Everyone was impressed and couldn’t wait to get started, but soon realized they weren’t going to be changing the furniture into animals for a long time. After a half-hour of extensive note-taking, Professor McGonagall had them try to turn matchsticks into needles. Danny was one of two students to succeed, the other being Hermione.

 

**_Tuesday, September 3, 1991_ **

Tuesdays they had Charms, followed by Herbology, Defense, and Transfiguration. In Charms, Professor Flitwick fell off the stack of books he was standing on when he got to Harry’s name on the roll. The first class was spent going over the  _ Lumos _ Charm. As one of the simplest spells ever devised, it was no surprise that everyone had the end of their wand lit like a flashlight.

What was surprising was the difficulty Neville had with the spell. Almost every try either failed to make his wand light up, or the resulting light was blinding.

In Herbology, Danny noticed that Neville seemed much more at ease, and indeed appeared to have a knack for the subject.

Defense remained a disappointment, only today Danny noticed a similar look of discomfort on his cousin’s face.

Transfiguration was mostly note-taking, but Danny noticed that in the practical portions he had an almost instinctive grasp of turning one object into another.

 

**_Wednesday, September 4, 1991_ **

Danny could barely concentrate during class, once he found out that they had Astronomy that night.

Eventually, the class was standing on top of the Astronomy tower at midnight, looking through their telescopes.

Danny had taken to the subject like a fish to water, to the utter lack of surprise from his cousin, who benefitted from the nights spent sneaking out of bed to stargaze on the roof back when they lived in America.

Danny could recite and identify the eighty-eight constellations, as well as the more important stars in each.

That night was the first where Danny didn’t suffer a nightmare, and woke up the next day well rested for once.

 

**_Friday, September 6, 1991_ **

After Double Charms and Transfiguration on Thursday, everyone was apprehensive about Double Potions with the Slytherins.

That morning, Hedwig arrived with a letter from Hagrid inviting him and his friends for tea that afternoon. Harry had written back yes, so they had their afternoon schedule filled.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle, and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animal parts floating in glass jars all around the walls. In one corner of the room, a gargoyle sat as a fountain over a stone basin of water.

As Danny was paying attention to the gargoyle, he did not notice that class had started until the door slammed open and Professor Snape stalked in, his black robes billowing in the most dramatic way possible. Turning round at the front, he spoke with a disdainful expression on his face as he took the role, stopping when he reached Harry’s name.

“Ah, yes,” he said softly,”Harry Potter, Our new --  _ celebrity _ .” This earned stifled snickers from Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, and a subsequent icy glare from Danny. When the Potions Professor finished calling the roll, he spoke again, his voice barely a whisper, but forcing them to hang on every word.

“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through the human veins, bewitching the minds, ensnaring the senses.… I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach.”

His dark eyes focused on Harry.

“Potter!” He barked. “What would I get if I added powdered root of Asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment before answering. “I believe that is the first step in most sleeping draughts.”

“So, you at least know the basics.” Snape replied after another moment. “Where would you look if I told you to locate a bezoar?”

“My pocket.” Harry replied smartly, earning a quirked eyebrow from the hook-nosed teacher. “Seems ridiculous not to have an antidote to most poisons within reach at all times.”

“Very well” Snape sneered, but Danny could catch an undercurrent of thoughtfulness in his expression. “Tell me, what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“They’re the same plant, Aconite.”

“Indeed, clearly Mister Potter, you are better prepared than I would have expected.” Harry couldn’t help but look offended as Snape turned his attention to the rest of the class.

“For your information, a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and will cure all but the most destructive poisons. Aconite is a poisonous plant that will also deter creatures such as vampires in its herbal form.” He looked around.  “Well, why aren’t you writing all this down!” He snapped, causing a rustle of parchment to fill the air, with the small pops of ink wells uncorking as the class, mainly the Gryffindors, started hastily jotting down the notes.

Afterwards, Professor Snape had them brew a Boil Cure Potion from the instructions on the blackboard. Soon enough the board was obscured by the thick fumes of around a dozen cauldrons.

Danny turned to his copy of  _ Magical Drafts and Potions _ . The book was worn but well-cared for, and had notes scribbled in the margins detailing minor alterations to the brew, courtesy of his mother, who was known to experiment. Before taking the potion off the fire, he added a dash of flobberworm mucus to thicken it, which made sense for a potion that was to be applied topically, and a sprinkle of powdered ginger root as a pain-reducer.

The delay this caused was what allowed Danny warn Neville to take his cauldron off the fire  _ before _ adding the porcupine quills. Just as Neville breathed a sigh of relief, a loud bang sounded across the room. Snape was at the source in an instant, glowering over the now boil-ridden forms of Crabbe and Goyle.

“Idiot boys” The Potions Master sneered. “You forgot to take the cauldron off of the fire  _ before _ adding the porcupine quills, didn’t you?” He asked condescendingly. “Miss Bulstrode, Miss Runcorn, take these two to the Hospital Wing.” He ordered a heavy-set girl with a square jaw and a tall, athletic girl with curly black hair. Danny faintly recalled the sorting, where Bulstrode was the first to have been sorted into Slytherin, and Runcorn was the second to last.

While Professor Snape vanished the sludge that was creeping across the floor, Neville gave an audible gulp as he realized the implications of what Danny had prevented.

At the end of class, they bottled their results, and Danny felt that his and Harry’s cobalt-colored potion was at the very least passable.

Once out of the stifling dungeon, the cousins had the rest of their day free. In a bout of curiosity, Danny and Harry snuck to the third floor corridor. Harry stood watch, while Danny concentrated. He felt a feeling of weightlessness fill him, and he opened his eyes to see his features translucent. He stuck his head through the solid wood door without a second thought, and the first thing his eyes focused on was the massive, breathing lump in the center of the corridor. Upon a second look, Danny could tell that it was a three-headed dog, or as the Greeks and wizards called it, a cerberus. Thankfully, the guard dog typically associated with the underworld was fast asleep.

Danny decided that it would not be best to linger around in case the cerberus woke up, and pulled his head out just in time for Harry to warn him about the patrol cat, AKA Mrs. Norris. They made their way to the Great Hall for lunch with no one the wiser.

At lunch, Ron asked if he could accompany them to Hagrid’s, and Danny decided to bring Neville along as well. The latter seemed very appreciative of being included.

At five to three the quartet left the castle and made their way across the grounds to Hagrid’s Hut, a relatively small house made of wood and stone that sat on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. A crossbow and an oversized pair of galoshes stood propped next to the front door.

When Danny knocked they heard a frantic scrabbling from inside and several booming barks. Danny silently hoped there wasn’t another cerberus in there. Hagrid’s voice rang out over the barking. “ _ Back, _ Fang --  _ back _ .”

Hagrid’s big, hairy face appeared in the crack as he pulled the door open. “Hang on,” he said. “ _ Back, _ Fang.”

He let them in, struggling to keep a hold on the collar of an enormous black boarhound. Apparently this was Fang, and Danny wondered what name had been given to the Cerberus, clearly it wouldn’t be something like  _ Fluffy _ , now would it? It was probably something like  _ Cujo _ or  _ Ripper _ .

Hagrid’s home only had one room inside. Hams and pheasants hung from the ceiling, a copper kettle sat over the open fire, merrily boiling away, and a massive bed with an equally large patchwork quilt stood in the corner.

“Make yerselves at home,” said Hagrid, letting go of Fang, who bounded strait at Danny and started licking his ears. Like Hagrid, fang was clearly not as fierce as he looked at first glance.

“This is Ron and Neville” Harry told Hagrid, who was pouring the copper kettles contents into a large teapot and putting rock cakes onto a plate.

“Another Weasley, eh?” said Hagrid, glancing at Ron’s freckles. “I spent half me life chasin’ yer twin brothers away from the forest.”

The rock cakes were shapeless lumps with raisins that could possibly pass as gemstones with their hardness. The quartet pretended to enjoy them as they told Hagrid all about their first lessons. Fang rested his head on Danny’s knee and drooled all over his robes, causing him to silently thank his mother for having had the  _ Impervious _ Charm put on her children’s robes.

The quartet was delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch “that old git.”

“An’ as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I’d like ter introduce her to Fang sometime. D’yeh know, every time I go up ter the school, she follows me everywhere? Can’t get rid of her -- Filch puts her up to it.”

Harry told Hagrid how Snape had singled him out in potions class, and Hagrid responded. “Well, he prob’ly thinks yer like yer father. They didn’t get along at all at Hogwarts.”

Harry looked like he wanted to ask more, but Hagrid changed the subject.

“How’s yer brother Charlie?” he asked Ron. “I liked him a lot -- great with animals.”

While Ron went into detail about Charlie’s work with dragons in Romania, Harry found a scrap of paper under the tea cozy. He looked over to it, and covertly slipped it to Danny. The ice-eyed boy eyed the paper, and quickly realized it was a cutting from the  _ Daily Prophet. _ He remembered his father mentioning the article from the paper the day after their trip to Diagon Alley. It was only now, reading the article for himself, that he realized that the Gringotts vault that had been broken into was the same one Hagrid had emptied while they were there.

Danny decided to keep this information to himself for the moment. Ron had said that only a powerful dark wizard could hope to get past the security of Gringotts. The image of burning red slits made itself known to Danny, who had to shake the thought away.

‘He’s not anywhere near England, you’re being paranoid Fenton.’ Danny thought to himself. But even as they made their way back up to the castle, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something dangerous was afoot.


	5. Broomsticks and Poltergeists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter taken from Chapter Nine of Harry Potter and the Philosophers/Sorcerers Stone by J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter or Danny Phantom

In every person’s life, they will encounter one person whom they despised above all else. For Danny Fenton and Harry Potter, this person was Draco Malfoy. Oh, they had experience with bullies in the past, as Dash Baxter could attest, but Draco Malfoy was the embodiment of overly-self-important, holier-than-thou pureblood elitist who thought anyone who couldn’t trace their ancestry back to the fifteenth-hundreds was dirt under their shoe. Thankfully, first-year Gryffindors only had to share Potions with the Slytherins, so their interactions with Malfoy were limited to two hours of making sure he and his lackeys did nothing to sabotage the other students, a task easier said than done.

The eleven first-years let out a collective groan when they saw the notice that Flying lessons would be starting that Thursday -- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

“And now we have to put up with Malfoy for another class. How do you think he’s going to try to sabotage us?” Harry quipped.

Truth be told, the Fentons were one of the few wizarding families whose children did not have extensive practice with broomsticks before Hogwarts. Oh, they had used toy brooms as young children, but between living in America, where the Statute of Secrecy was far stricter, and keeping a low profile while in Britain, the Fenton children were sorely lacking in prior education when it came to flight.

Thankfully, they weren’t they only wizard-raised students with lackluster flying experience, as Neville confided in them that he had never been on a broomstick in his life, thanks to his grandmother.

It was a small solace that Hermione was showing nervousness about flying, after her annoying confidence in every other subject.

 

**_Thursday, September 12, 1991, Great Hall._ **

It was a great relief when the mail arrived that morning, as Hermione had been reading every flying tip she could find in  _ Quidditch Through the Ages. _ Danny wondered why no one had bothered to make a ‘ _ Beginners Guide to Flying’ _ , and caulked it up to wizards being both lazy, and hand-on in learning anything interesting.

Spooky swooped over the Gryffindor table and dropped off a box of sweets from his mom, which he shared among the Gryffindors, giving a cocky glare at the Slytherin table, as Malfoy had been doing it every single day since they had arrived at Hogwarts.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother containing a glass ball that held swirling smoke, with a gold band around the center and circular etchings on the surface.

“It’s a Remembrall!” He explained. “Gran knows I forget things -- this tells you if there’s something you’ve forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red -- oh…” His face fell as the Remembrall turned an unattractive scarlet, “...you’ve forgotten something…”

Neville was trying to remember what he’d forgotten when Draco Malfoy, who for some reason was passing the Gryffindor table despite it being on the opposite side of the room from the Slytherin table, snatched the Remembrall out of his hand.

Harry, Danny, and Ron all jumped to their feet, half hoping to finally have a reason to fight Malfoy, but Professor McGonagall was there first.

“What’s going on?” She demanded.

“Malfoy’s got my Remembrall, Professor.”

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the remembrall back on the table. “Just looking,” he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him. McGonagall’s gaze followed them back to their table.

“Don’t forget your essay for my class on the Transfiguration runic alphabet.” McGonagall said as she left for the Head Table.

The smoke in Neville’s Remembrall turned clear.

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harry, Danny, Ron, Neville, and the rest of the Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It a clear, breeze day, the grass rippling under their feet as they made their way down. Perfect weather for flying, if a bit too bright for an ideal Quidditch match. The eleven Gryffindors made their way to the smooth, flat lawn on the opposite side of the grounds from the Forbidden Forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins had gotten there first, and were there with twenty-one broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground, ten on one side and eleven on the other. Danny had heard complaints from Fred and George Weasley, and his own sister, about how the school brooms started to vibrate at higher altitudes, or constantly veer left.

Their instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived. She had short gray hair and hawk-like yellow eyes.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she barked. ‘Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up.”

Danny looked down at his broom, a Shooting Star, cheapest racing broom for its time, and only got less usable with age.

“Stick out your right hand over your broom,”called Madam Hooch at the front, “and say ‘Up!’”

“UP!” everyone shouted.

Danny’s broom shot into his hand within seconds. He looked around, and saw that only a few people had gotten it on the first try, Harry included. He leaned over to Neville.

“You have to order it to do what you tell it to do.” He told him. Neville got it on his fourth try.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. She told Danny that his grip would have worked on a fifteenth-century broom, and told Malfoy that he had been doing it wrong for years, much to the quartet’s delight.

“Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard,” said Madam Hooch. “Keep your brooms steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle -- three -- two --”

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch’s lips.

“Come back boy!” she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle -- twelve feet -- twenty feet. Danny saw his scared white scared face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and --

THUNK -- and Danny felt pain blossom in his chest as a weight pressed down on him and he struggled to get it off.

“Stop struggling,” Madam Hooch told him, and he did as she said. She pulled Neville off of him and he sat up wincing. “Broken ribs,” she muttered over him, “at least you broke his fall.” She helped him up.

“None of you is to move while I take these boys to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you’ll be out of Hogwarts before you can say ‘Quidditch’. Come on dears.” She lead him towards the castle as he hobbled along.

After suffering the rather painful bond-mending charm from Madam Pomfrey while Neville received a Calming Draught, he came to the Great Hall for dinner to Ron saying “You’re  _ joking. _ ”

“What’d I miss this time?” Danny asked.

“Malfoy mocked you and Neville and took his Remembrall, I got it back and McGonagall made me Gryffindor Seeker.” Danny had taken a sip of pumpkin juice and spat it out at Harry’s last line.

“You’re kidding me.”

“ _ Seeker? _ Ron said. “But first years  _ never _ \-- you must be the youngest house player in about --”

“-- a century,” said harry, shovelling steak and kidney pie into his mouth. “Wood told me.”

Ron sat and gaped, as did Harry.

“I start training next week,” said Harry. “Only don’t tell anyone, Wood wants to keep it a secret.”

The Weasley twins entered the hall, spotted Harry, and hurried over.

“Well done,” said George in a low voice. “Wood told us. We’re on the team too -- Beaters.”

“I tell you, we’re going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year,” said Fred. “We haven’t won since Charlie left, but this year’s team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harry, Wood was almost skipping when he told us.”

“Anyway, we’ve got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he;s found a new secret passageway out of the school.”

“Bet it’s the one behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy that we found in our first week. See you.”

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when the far less welcome faces of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle showed up.

“Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to whatever hovel you call a home?”

Danny shot up like a spring and sent Malfoy a glare that could freeze hell, and indeed stopped Malfoy and his cronies in their tracks.

“You’re a lot braver now that you’re back on the ground and you’ve got your little friends with you,” said Harry coolly. With all the teachers present and Danny providing a textbook death glare, neither of the two gorillas could do more than crack their knuckles and scowl.

“I’d take you on anytime on my own,” said Malfoy, somehow ignoring the murderous look aimed at him. “Tonight, if you want. Wizard’s duel. Wand’s only -- no contact.”

“Fine by me. “ Danny growled, cracking his neck. “I’m his second, who’s yours?”

After a moment's deliberation, he decided on Crabbe, the larger of the duo. “Midnight all right? We’ll meet you in the trophy room; that’s always unlocked.”

Malfoy shoulder-checked Danny as he passed, and then was gone.

“Excuse me.” Harry, Danny, and Ron looked up. It was Hermione Granger.

“Can’t a person eat in peace in this place?” said Ron.

Hermione ignored him and spoke to the cousins.

“I couldn’t help overhearing what you and Malfoy were saying --”

“Bet you could,” Ron muttered.

“-- and you  _ mustn’t _ go wandering around the school at night, think of the points you’ll lose Gryffindor if you’re caught, and you’re bound to be. It’s really very selfish of you.”

“And it’s really none of your business.” said Harry.

”But it is mine.” A new voice said behind them. They turned around and saw Jazz, with an identical look as Hermione on her face. “What you’re planning to do is selfish, dangerous, and undoubtedly a trap. Malfoy is a Slytherin, and abhor direct confrontation. So tell me, what would be his most likely course of action?”

“Tell Filch that there are students out of bed in the Trophy Room at midnight.” Harry answered.

“Don’t worry, I have a plan.” Danny said, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

About thirty minutes to midnight, Danny slipped out of bed and snuck down.to the common room. A few embers were still glowing in the fireplace, turning all the armchairs into hunched black shadows. He had almost reached the portrait hole when a voice spoke from the chair nearest to him. “I can’t believe you’re going to do this, Danny.”

A light flickered on. It was Hermione Granger, wearing a pink bathrobe and a frown.

“Gotta say, never took you for wearing pink.” Danny quipped.

“I almost told Percy, you know, the prefect?”

“Well, I’ve got a practically foolproof plan to get back at Malfoy, so you can go back to bed.” Danny pushed open the portrait of the Fat Lady and stepped through the hole.

Hermione wasn’t going to give up that easily. She followed him through the portrait hole, hissing like an angry Canadian goose.

“Don’t you  _ care _ about Gryffindor, do you only care about yourself,  _ I  _ don’t want Slytherin to win the house cup, and you’ll lose all the points I got from Professor McGonagall for knowing about Switching Spells.”

Danny turned on her, his eyes glowing in the dark with cold anger. “Never. Call. Me. Selfish.” He stalked off. Hermione turned to go back inside only to find the Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit, locking her out of Gryffindor tower.

“Now what am I going to do?” she asked shrilly.

“Watch Malfoy get knocked down a peg or two?” Danny asked rhetorically.

Hermione thought for a moment. “Fine. But if Filch catches us, I’m telling the truth, that I was trying to stop you, and you can back me up.”

“Fine.” Danny said, before stopping.

“Oh, Neville.” He shook his head. Neville was curled up on the floor, fast asleep, but jerked suddenly awake as they crept nearer.

“Thank goodness you found me! I’ve been out here for hours, I couldn’t remember the new password to get into bed.”

“Keep your voice down, Neville. The password’s ‘Pig Snout’ but it won’t help you now, the Fat Lady’s gone off somewhere.”

“Probably the entrance hall to see her friend Violet. What are you doing outside the tower? You went up there after Madam Pomfrey gave you the Calming Draught.” said Danny.

“Well, it was kinda odd being the only one in our dorm, so I took a walk and lost track of time.”

“Okay -- well, look, Neville, I’m about to take Malfoy off his high horse, so you can either stay here or --”

“Don’t leave me!” said Neville, scrambling to his feet, “I don’t want to stay here alone, the Bloody Baron’s been past twice already.”

Danny checked his watch. The entire exchange had taken about three minutes.

“Alright, but we’re on a time crunch here, so we’ll be taking some shortcuts.” Danny lead them to one of the many ‘false walls’ that hid anything from rooms to secret passageways. A few taps in the right places and the wall flickered. Following the short passage brought them to the third floor just next to the library. It was only a few corridors-worth of sneaking before they entered the trophy room.

Like Jazz had suggested, Malfoy had not shown up. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. Danny stepped into the middle of the room.

“This is where the fun begins.” Danny took a deep breath, and in his hands, a soft green light glowed. He separated his hands, and the glow became a sort of sludge, coalescing into a ball. Eventually, he was holding a two foot wide globe of green sludge. Balancing it on one hand, he reached into his robe and drew out a wand.

“Malfoy’s wand, nicked when he shoulder-checked me at dinner.” He stuck the wand halfway into the globe, and a smirk played across his features.

“I would hide behind that pillar if I were you.”

Hermione and Neville ducked behind one of the cases, as Danny turned intangible. Without his tangible support, the globe hit the ground and splattered.

Most of the trophy room was now coated in vicious green slime, and lying in the middle of it all was Malfoy’s wand.

“Okay, time to go. We only have a couple minutes before Filch gets here.”

Danny lead them back the way they came, and then used his intangibility to pull Hermione and Neville through the Fat Lady’s portrait and into the Gryffindor common room.

“Now, we never speak of this to anyone.” said Danny, his tone dead serious.

Danny and Neville slipped into bed and quickly fell asleep, while Hermione took a bit longer, three questions on her mind.

‘What was that green slime? How did Danny create it? And How can a wizard turn intangible?”


	6. Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter taken from Chapter Nine of Harry Potter and the Philosophers/Sorcerers Stone by J. K. Rowling. I do not own Harry Potter or Danny Phantom

On the morning of Halloween, Danny received a large parcel from home. Inside was a chocolate cake with bright green icing spelling out in bold letters:

 

**Happy**

**Birthday**

**Danny**

 

“Today’s your birthday?” said Ron. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“It never came up.” replied Danny, who was quickly dividing the cake among his friends.

Several more owls came for Danny, dropping off several packages that were undoubtedly presents. Among them were several pairs of socks, a red scarf with gold embroidery from his dad, and a hand held mirror that only showed a shadowy figure.

“What’s that?” asked Neville.

“It’s a Foe-Glass” supplied Hermione helpfully. “It’s supposed to show the possessors enemies when they get near.” The figure in the glass resolved into a familiar blond head, at which Danny instinctively stood up and turned around to see Malfoy trying and failing to sneak up behind him.

“Come for your daily taunting, Malfoy?” said Danny, stopping cold whatever snide introductory remark was on the blonde’s tongue.

“You don’t know what day today is?” Malfoy retorted.

“Ten years ago, my cousin was orphaned, and Voldemort shoved off the mortal coil. Twelve years ago, I came into the world. Now I would appreciate it if you would leave us alone today.” Danny sat back down, and kept an eye on him until he was back at the Slytherin table.

Everyone was looking forward to Charms class that day, as they would be starting on the levitation charm. Flitwick demonstrated the charm by making Neville’s toad zoom around the room like a toad-shaped UFO.

They started the lesson by going over the origins of the spell, by way of the rather humorous story of Jarleth Hobart, who initially thought he had achieved unsupported flight, only to wind up naked with sixteen broken bones before realising what his spell did, upon which he embarrassed the Chief Warlock by levitating his wig off his head. The class all had a good chuckle at that, and after a lengthy lecture on the theory behind the charm, Professor Flitwick had them split into pairs to try their hand at the charm. Harry was with Ron, and Danny with Hermione. Neville had managed to get partnered with Seamus Finnigan, who had managed to once make a goblet of water turn into weak tea before it exploded in his face. Hopefully the only casualties today would be eyebrows.  

“Now, Don’t forget that nice wrist movement we’ve been practicing!” the Charms Master squeaked from atop his pile of books. “Swish and flick, remember, swish and flick. And saying the incantation properly is very important, too -- never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said ‘s’ instead of ‘f’ and found himself with a buffalo on his chest.”

Danny had to wonder just what spell he had been trying to cast that would lead to such circumstances.

After his first few tries ended in failure, he focused on tightening his wand movements, as he saw most students flailing about like fish out of water.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” On the third try after that, the feather in from of him lifted from the table and followed the motions of his wand.

Of course, that was only _after_ Hermione had succeeded in levitating her feather.

“Oh, well done!” Professor Flitwick was clapping. “Everyone see here, Miss Granger and Mister Fenton have done it!”

Ron managed to nearly poke Harry’s eye out, and as predicted, Seamus’ feather exploded, leaving him once more with singed eyebrows.

In Transfiguration, they tried to turn small creatures into matchboxes with the _Flintifors_ spell, of which only Danny seemed to be able to get close, turning the mouse in front of him into a fur-covered matchbox.

Flying lessons went as they normally went, thankfully with no trips to the hospital wing like that disastrous first lesson. Danny had actually proven to be very good on a broomstick, no where near Harry’s level of skill, but pretty decent.

During their free period in the afternoon, Danny had to ward off the numerous attempts by other students to ask about if he remembered anything about the night “You-Know-Who” was vanquished. The icy glare that came so easily to Danny helped keep them away.

“Like he’s staring through your soul.” they would say about it, and after a fifth-year Slytherin walked away in shivers, they got the message not to mess with them.

The chatter died down once they got to the Great Hall, where the Halloween decorations left most of the first-years breathless. The floating candles had been replaced with jack-o-lanterns, and a thousand live bats fluttered from the walls and ceiling while a thousand more swooped over the tables in low black clouds, making the lights of the lanterns stutter. Danny could _feel_ the magic in the air, like a charge of static.

Like at the start-of-term banquet, the feast appeared suddenly on the golden plates, and they dug in. Danny had just finished a slice of pumpkin tart when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the Great Hall like the hounds of hell were on his heels. His turban was askew and his face a rictus of terror. Everyone stared as he cried out “Troll! In the dungeons! Thought you ought to know.”

He collapsed in a dead faint in the middle of the hall just as a bolt of lightning light up the enchanted ceiling. Several screams rang out, mostly from the younger years, and Danny took some satisfaction in hearing Malfoy among them.

Dumbledore stood up and silenced the crowd with several purple firecrackers exploding from the end of his wand.

“Prefects,” he rumbled, “lead your Houses back to the dormitories immediately!”

Percy was in his element, and quickly called out orders.

“Follow me! Stick together, first years! No need to fear the troll if you follow my orders! Stay close behind me now. Make way, first years coming through! Excuse me, I’m a Prefect!”

“How could a troll get in?” Harry asked as they climbed the stairs.

“No idea, considering how stupid they are,” Danny answered.

“Maybe Peeves let it in for a Halloween joke.” Ron chipped in.

They made it to the third floor when their progress ground to a halt with shrieks of terror and more than a few held noses.

Twelve feet tall with granite gray skin and legs like spiked tree trunks, a massive wooden club dragging on the ground, the troll stood in the middle of the corridor blocking their path, and worse yet, it had taken notice of them and roared before swinging its club.

“ _Protego!_ ” Percy shouted, throwing a hasty shield between the students and the club. The club bounced back and hit the ground, but the shield broke and the backlash set Percy to the floor.

To stupid to be daunted, the troll tried again, only this time, a bolt of green struck its shoulder and made it drop again.

Danny fell to his knees, blood dripping from his nose.

The troll howled with pain, and began flailing with its club.

“ _Wingardium Leviosa!_ ” Ron cast, tearing the club out of the troll’s oversized hands and leaving it hanging in the air. The troll slowly looked up….

...Only for the club to tumble down directly onto its face. The troll swayed for a moment, before following its club to the ground, the corridor trembling as it landed with a massive, weighty thud.

Harry helped Danny shakily to his feet, while Ron was gaping at what he had just done, his wand still raised.

Percy had gotten back to his feet, and was also gaping.

“Is it -- dead?” Hermione asked tentatively.

“No, just knocked out.” Harry noted.

A moment later, Professor McGonagall stormed into the corridor, followed closely by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell. Danny noted that Snape was walking with a limp. Professor Quirrell took one look at the unconscious troll, let out a faint whimper, and leaned on the nearest suit of armor, clutching his heart.

“You’re lucky you weren’t killed,” said Professor McGonagall, worry in her voice. “What happened?” she demanded.

Percy explained.

“We were crossing the corridor to get to the stairs to our dormitories, but the troll blocked our path and noticed us. “I used a shield charm to block the club, and Ron levitated its club out of its hand and knocked it out.” He conveniently left out the part where _something_ hit the troll in the shoulder and sent it berserk.

“And what happened to Mister Fenton?” she asked, looking at the raven-haired boy whose nose had just stopped bleeding.

“I don’t know” Danny answered. “The troll was about to attack, I held out my hand and it dropped its arm.”

“Very well.” Professor McGonagall said. “Take Mister Fenton to the hospital wing, and that will be fifty points to Gryffindor, Mister Weasley, for standing your ground in the face of danger, and twenty points for ingenuity and sheer dumb luck, Mister Weasley.”

 

After another trip to the hospital wing, Danny was discharged after a couple of healing charms and another unpleasant-tasting potion, and the students finished the feast in their dorms.

“The troll’s shoulder was burned by a powerful magical attack. It scorched the beast’s hide, despite the innate spell resistance.” Severus reported to Dumbledore.

“Could it have been accidental magic?” the bearded wizard proposed.

“If it is, I dread what sort of power the boy will wield when he matures. I checked one of the first years’ memories, and they saw a green light shoot from Fenton’s palm and strike the troll.” said the Potions Master.

“And the stone?” Dumbledore asked, changing the subject to the more pressing concern.

“The thief certainly could not get past the oaf’s cerberus. It was fully awake when I attempted to enter the corridor.” Severus winced, his leg still sporting a bite mark from the hellhound’s jaws.

“Indeed, but we cannot ignore that the troll could have been a distraction. Do you have any leads on the identity of the thief?”

“No, but sooner or later, the thief will reveal himself.” Severus said as he left the headmaster’s office.

Stroking Fawkes’ feathers, Dumbledore got up and went to his private library. On a hunch, he picked out a tome bound in black leather with silvery-white accents, the cover sporting only a single image, a glyph that looked like a wispy ‘D’ cut to form the negative space into a ‘P’.


	7. Quidditch and Suspicions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter come from Chapter Eleven of Harry Potter and the Philosophers/Sorcerers Stone by J. K. Rowling.

As October faded to November, the scottish winter began to creep in. The mountains around the school became an inhospitable icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Frost coated the ground every morning like clockwork. From the upstairs windows, Hagrid could be seen on the Quidditch Pitch, defrosting the brooms while bundled in handmade coats and furs.

For Danny Fenton, the weather was perfectly fine. He had taken to wearing his winter cloak, but the truth was that the lowering temperatures did not affect him the same way the did everyone else, save maybe Scandinavians.

For the students of Hogwarts, there a buzz in the air, as Quidditch Season had begun. Saturday, November ninth was the first game of the season, the always-sensational Gryffindor-Slytherin match.

Danny had gotten his own copy of  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ , and could only shake his head at some of the seven hundred fouls. ‘Attempted decapitation of a Keeper with a broadsword’ was apparently a separate foul from ‘attacking an opponent with an axe.

Of course, his cousin had to be playing the most dangerous position in the game. While there were no recorded Seeker fatalities on the pitch, there was more than a disturbing number of injuries among them. For having made the house team, Danny’s parents had bought Harry a brand new Nimbus Two-Thousand, with which he was a natural.

While Harry was having Quidditch practice in anticipation of the big game, Danny had taken to exploring the castle. Checking on Fluffy showed the cerberus was on high alert, likely in response to the colder temperatures.

Sneaking a glance in the staffroom, he caught Professor Snape having his leg bandaged with the help of Filch.

“Blasted thing”, the Potions Master was saying. “How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?”

Danny slipped out before either of them could take notice of him, and headed back to the Gryffindor tower. Snape had apparently had a close encounter of the Fluffy kind, and had come off the worse for it.Someone had clearly left their situational awareness in the dungeons, and it rhymed with ‘cape’. He knew from conversations with Hagrid that the teachers were protecting  _ something _ hidden in the third floor corridor, and that Fluffy was the first line of defense.

He got back to the common room, and noticed that his cousin had gotten engrossed in his book, most likely to cope with his anxiety. He decided to tell Hermione about what he had seen. The bushy-haired girl still hadn’t ratted him out about his prank in the trophy room. Despite all her talk about following the rules, she seemed surprisingly willing to bend or break them, and after the incident with the troll, they had banded together as friends. (He realized that the trolls last swing would have most likely hit Hermione, so Ron had probably saved her with his levitation charm.) Right now she was going over their Charms homework. She would never let them copy (“How will you learn?” she said in an unintentional imitation of Jazz.) But asking her to read through it let them get the answers right anyway.

He told Hermione what he had seen, and Ron had joined the conversation, as had Harry, who had put down  _ Quidditch Through the Ages _ . It elicited a snort from Ron.

“So, he tried to get past the cerberus on Halloween. He was limping when he showed up after Ron knocked the troll out.” Harry said. “He must be after whatever it’s guarding!”

“I don’t think he’s after it. Why would he be talking to Filch about it if he was trying to steal it? From the sound of it, Professor Snape was caught off guard trying to check the protections.” Hermione shot down.

“There is another suspect.” Danny said, his voice foreboding.

“Who?” asked Ron.

“Quirrell.” Danny said plainly. “Every single time I’m in the same room as him, I get this sense of  _ wrongness _ . And have you noticed his stutter? No one stutters on every single word they say.”

He turned to Harry, “And why would a  _ Potions Master _ use a troll for a distraction? If he wanted a distraction he could have knocked everyone out with a sleeping draught and waltzed in and out with whatever’s being guarded. Oh, Snape’s a piece of work, that’s for sure,” He recalled an incident in Potions where Harry had accidentally put too much honeywater in their Wiggenweld Potion, and Snape had dismissed it as a complete waste, vanishing the contents of the cauldron.

“But I don’t think would try to steal something from under Dumbledore’s nose.” he finished.

They all went to bed after that, and as he was drifting off to sleep, a memory flitted through his head.

“That’s between Professor Dumbledore an’ Nicholas Flamel.” Hagrid had said when he asked about the cerberus.

‘Oh, he did not hide  _ that _ in a school.’ was Danny’s last conscious thought.

 

~~AWS~~

 

The dawn the next morning was bright and cold. The only conversations in the Great Hall at breakfast were about the Quidditch match. Harry wouldn’t touch his breakfast, and it took the combined work of Seamus, Hermione, and a few drops of a Draught of Peace that Danny had nicked from the Potions classroom to get him to eat.

By eleven o’clock, the stands around the Quidditch pitch were filling with what seemed like the whole school. Many of the students were carrying binoculars to see the action.

Danny was sitting in the top row of the Gryffindor stands with Ron, Hermione, Neville, Seamus, and Dean the West Ham fan. The latter two had painted a banner as a surprise for Harry. The banner said “Potter for President”, and Dean had painted a Gryffindor lion underneath, which was flashing red and gold thanks to some charms work courtesy of Hermione.

The match started, with the third year Gryffindor Lee Jordan, Fred and George’s friend, commentating. Gryffindor scored first, filling the air with cheers from the lions and moans and howls from the Slytherins.

“Budge up there, move along”

“Hagrid!”

Ron and Hermione squeezed together to give Hagrid enough space to join them.

“Bin watchin’ from me hut,” said Hagrid, patting a large binoculars around his neck, “But it isn’t the same as bein’ in the crowd. No sign of the Snitch yet, eh?”

“Nope,” said Ron. “Harry hasn’t had much to do yet.”

“Kept outta trouble, though, that’s somethin’,” said Hagrid, raising his binoculars and peering skyward at the speck that was Harry.

A sudden feeling of unease wormed its way into his gut. He had only ever felt it once before, and he knew it meant trouble.

The feeling did not go away when Flint was given a foul for blocking Harry’s line to the Snitch, and Dean called out, “Send him off, ref! Red card!”

“What are you talking about, Dean?” asked Ron.

“Red card!” Dean shouted furiously. “In football you get shown the red card and you’re out of the game!”

“But this isn’t football, Dean,” Ron had to remind him that the rules were different.

Hagrid, however, was on Dean’s side.

“They oughta change the rules. Flint coulda knocked Harry outta the air.”

Lee Jordan let his Gryffindor bias show.

“So -- after that obvious and disgusting bit of cheating --”

“Jordan!” growled Professor McGonagall.

“I mean, after that open and revolting foul --”

“ _ Jordan, I’m warning you -- _ ”

“All right, all right. Flint nearly kills the Gryffindor Seeker, which could happen to anyone, I’m sure, so a penalty to Gryffindor, taken by Spinnet, who puts it away, no trouble, and we continue play, Gryffindor still in possession.”

Danny saw Harry dodge a bludger and suddenly  _ lurch _ , nearly falling off his broom. The unease in his gut became a dagger of warning as Harry’s broom jerked and bucked.

“Dunno what Harry thinks he’s doing,” Hagrid mumbled. He stared through his binoculars. “If I didn’ know better, I’d say he’d lost control of his broom … but he can’t have….”

Suddenly, people were pointing up at Harry all over the stands. His broom had started to roll over and over, with him only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harry’s broom had given a wild jerk and Harry swung off it. He was now dangling from it, holding on with just one hand.

“Did something happen to it when Flint blocked him?” Seamus whispered.

“Can’t have,” Hagrid said, his voice shaking. “Can’t nothing interterfere with a broomstick ‘cept powerful Dark magic -- no kid could do that to a Nimbus Two Thousand.

At those words, Danny’s eyes flashed green, and could  _ see _ the magic affecting Harry’s broom. An inky black tendril was grabbing the broom, warring with a silver thread that was trying to break its hold. He tracked the spells back to their source, the teacher’s box.

“ _ Quirrell _ ” Danny growled. Before anyone could notice, Danny slipped down and across the stands to underneath the teacher’s box.

“Okay Quirrell, why don’t you try this on for size.” He whispered, clasping one hand around Quirrell’s ankle, he yanked it down and under the bench, sending the Defense Professor pivoting out of his seat and tumbling into the row in front of him, sending Snape to ground as well.

Up in the air, Harry was able to regain stability and remount his broom.

A couple minutes later, Harry nearly swallowed the Snitch, and the game was over, Gryffindor winning one-seventy to sixty.

At Hagrid’s hut, Harry was given a strong cup of tea. Ron, Hermione, and Neville were with the cousins. 

“It was Quirrell. I can’t exactly explain it, but for a second there, I was able to  _ see _ the spells being cast. There were two spells. One was a jinx, and I’ll bet you anything the other was a counter-curse.”

“Rubbish,” said Hagrid. “Why would Quirrell do somethin’ like that?”

“Every time I’m near him, I get this sense of sheer  _ wrongness _ coming from him.”

“You can  _ sense _ magic!” Hermione exclaimed. Sensing magic without using spells was a rare trait.

“Yeah, and if I’m right, our timid Defense Professor is after the Philosophers Stone.

“How did ye learn about the stone?” Hagrid looked furious.

“You said that the deal with Fluffy was between Dumbledore and Nicholas Flamel. You know, the immortal alchemist?”

“How could it be Quirrell, though, he just doesn’t seem like he would be going after the stone. And didn’t you say Snape had gotten bitten by Fluffy?” Hermione retorted.

“How long has Snape been teaching?” Danny asked.

“About eleven years, give or take.” Hagrid answered.

“How long has Quirrell been teaching?”

“He taught Muggle studies for about six years, then he went abroad last summer ‘fore taking the Defense position.”

“Went abroad? Who knows what sort of Dark magic or creatures he encountered?” Harry asked rhetorically.


	8. Christmas Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter come from Chapter Twelve of Harry Potter and the Philosophers/Sorcerers Stone by J. K. Rowling.

The Christmas season had started, and that meant Danny was in a foul mood. He couldn’t remember a single Christmas that wasn’t ruined for him in some way. Most of it could be put down to his parents’ ineptitude with food-related charms, meaning that Christmas dinner was always a disaster that usually ended in some food-based monstrosity splattered on the kitchen walls. The other part had to do with the scars on his neck, and the less said about  _ that _ the better.

It was for this reason he and Harry had decided to stay at Hogwarts for the holidays.

On a cold morning in mid-December, the first snowfall drifted it. The lake froze over as several feet of snow had built up on the ground. The Weasley twins got into trouble when they bewitched snowballs to follow Quirrell and bounce off the back of his turban repeatedly until the melted. Hagrid had to nurse back to health those owls that had managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail.

The Great Hall was now sporting a dozen towering fir trees, all fully done up as Christmas trees. Some were sparking with tiny icicles, while others glittered with hundreds of candles.

Most of the Gryffindor first-years had gone home for the holidays. Aside from the cousins, Ron had stayed behind because his parents had already gone to Romania to visit his brother Charlie. With the dormitory to themselves and the common room far emptier than usual, Danny actually enjoyed hanging out with Harry and Ron, roasting whatever foods they could spear on a toasting fork and roast in the fireplace. They talked of various ways to deal with Malfoy, most of which were quite impractical. How on earth would they get a barrel of surstromming to pour on his head?

Ron also taught them wizard chess, something Danny had previously no interest in, but after seeing Ron win every single game against Harry, got intrigued. Ron’s chess set was old and battered, but worked well for him, while the pieces Harry borrowed from Seamus didn’t trust any of Harry’s moves. More often than not, they would give him conflicting advice, which didn’t help that Harry wasn’t a very good player to begin with.

On Christmas morning, the cousins awoke early to piles of presents at the foot of their beds.

“Happy Christmas,” said Ron sleepily as Harry and Danny scrambled out of bed and into their bathrobes.

“Well, looks like this one is from Hagrid.” Danny said, handing Harry to top parcel in the stack, a somewhat rectangular package wrapped in thick brown paper. ‘To Harry, from Hagrid’ was scrawled across the top. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had clearly whittled it himself. Harry blew into it, releasing a sound much like an owl’s.

Danny opened his first gift, a hand-embroidered scarf in Gryffindor colors. His dad’s work, surely.

Harry got an emerald sweater with a large yellow H on it. Ron groaned as he realized it was a Weasley sweater, and unwrapped his own maroon one, it did not go with his hair.

Danny laughed until he found a similar package in his stack. His sweater was sky blue with the letter D in purple.

“And now I look like a Ravenclaw.” He said after he put it on.

Along with the sweaters were boxes of homemade fudge. Danny made a mental note not to let his Dad anywhere near Mrs. Weasley’s cooking.

Hermione had sent the trio a large box of Chocolate Frogs each. They enjoyed trading the cards, although Danny couldn’t explain the spike of hatred that shot through him when he looked at the card for Herpo the Foul. Ron had also gotten a box of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

The largest package in Danny’s pile turned out to be a rather expensive brass telescope with numerous magical modifications. That one was quickly set by the window.

The last parcel in Harry’s stack was very light, and looked to contain some sort of fabric. Harry unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silvery gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped. Harry picked it up. It felt like someone had woven water into fabric.

“An invisibility cloak.” Danny breathed.

“They’re really rare, and  _ really _ valuable.” Ron said in a hushed voice.

“More than you can imagine.” Danny told him. Harry threw the cloak around his shoulders and Ron gave a yell.

Harry had disappeared below the neck. Harry dashed to the mirror, where only his head was visible, like an apparition. He pulled the cloak over his head, and vanished completely.

Danny looked down, and found a note on the floor next to the discarded gift wrap.

_ Your father left this in my possession before he died.  _

_ It is time it was returned to you.  _

_ Use it well. _

_ A Very Happy Christmas to you. _

 

The letter wasn’t signed, but there was something about the narrow, looping text that seemed familiar.

“Harry, I think this is the Peverell Cloak.” Danny said, his voice shaking. Harry pulled off the cloak, and Ron looked confused.

“Peverell cloak?” He asked.

“Didn’t your mother read you  _ The Tales of Beedle the Bard _ ?” Harry turned to Ron.

“ _ The Tale of Three Brothers _ !?” The Weasley exclaimed. “You mean that’s the invisibility cloak of...Death?”

“No, Mom always said it was more likely the brothers were very powerful and talented wizards. I know the Potters are related to the Peverells.” Danny explained, fetching a book from his trunk. “Ah, here it is:  _ Hardwin Potter, the eldest son of Linfred of Stinchcombe, known as ‘the Potterer’ by his neighbors. Hardwin moved the family to Godric’s Hollow, where he married the young witch Iolanthe Peverell, the only grandchild of Ignotus Peverell. The legendary cloak was then passed to the eldest child in each generation of Potters. _ ”

“Whoa” was all Ron could say. Before a more intelligent reply could be said, the dormitory door was flung open by the inbound Weasley Twins. Harry quickly hid the cloak under his blanket. It was supposed to be a relative secret, and there was no telling what sort of trouble those two could get into with an invisibility cloak.

“Happy Christmas!”

“Hey, look -- Harry and Danny have Weasley jumpers too!”

Fred and George, or Gred and Forge as they would sometimes have people believe, were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G. Knowing them, they were likely wearing the other’s sweater.

“Theirs’ are better than ours though,” said Fred, or possibly George. “She obviously makes more of an effort if you’re not family.”

“Why aren’t you wearing yours. Ron?” George, or possibly Fred, demanded. “Come on, get it on, they’re lovely and warm.”

“I hate maroon,” Rom grumbled as he pulled it over his head.

“You haven’t got a letter on yours, I suppose she thinks you don’t forget your name. But we’re not stupid -- we know we’re called Gred and Forge.” The now confirmed Gred observed.

“What’s all this noise?”

Percy stuck his head through the door, looking disapprovingly. He had clearly been halfway through unwrapping his own presents, as he too carried a lumpy sweater over his arm, which Forge seized.

“P for prefect! Get it on, Percy, come on, we’re all wearing ours, even Harry and Danny got them.”

“I -- don’t -- want --” said Percy thickly, as his sweater was forced over his head by the twins, knocking his horn-rimmed glasses askew.

“And you’re not sitting with the prefects today, either,” said George. “Christmas is a time for family.”

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater, completely ignorant of the pang of heartbreak on the faces of Harry and Danny.

The cousins had never experienced such a Christmas dinner. A hundred fat, roast turkeys; veritable mountains of potatoes, roast, boiled, and mashed; platters of chipolatas; tureens of buttered peas; silver boats of thick gravy and cranberry sauce -- and stacks and stacks of wizard crackers every few feet along the table. With most of the students gone for the holidays, those who stayed were encouraged to mingle with students from the other houses. Jazz had chosen to sit with her brother and cousin, and seemed as glad to be away from the nightmare that was Christmas dinner at the Fenton residence. Danny pulled one with his sister, and the cannon-blast-like sound left their ears ringing while the blue smoke left behind a beret and a pack of Exploding Snap cards. He took the cards and let Jazz wear the beret. The cracker he pulled with Harry contained a fur-lined trapper hat and a few galleons. He quietly slipped the latter into Ron’s pocket while he wasn’t looking. At the staff table. Dumbledore was wearing a floral bonnet, and was chuckling merrily at a joke read by Professor Flitwick.

Flaming Christmas puddings followed the turkey, and Percy nearly broke a tooth on a silver sickle that was in his slice. Hagrid was living up to his first name as he called for more and more wine. Apparently having giant blood doesn’t help in holding one’s liquor. The groundskeeper’s consumption of wine culminated in him kissing Professor McGonagall on the cheek, who, amazingly, giggled and blushed, her top-hat lop-sided. Harry suspected something stronger than wine in the Transfiguration Professor’s goblet.

When the cousins finally left the table, they had to get their sister to put a feather-light charm on the stack of trinkets from the crackers, including a brand new set of wizard’s chess, luminous balloons that could not be popped, a Grow-Your-Own-Warts kit, and several hats, at least a couple of which might be worth keeping. Mrs Norris could be seen chasing some of the mice that had been in one of the crackers.

The afternoon was spent in a snowball fight between the Fentons and Weasleys. Despite having greater numbers, the family of redheads were no match for Danny’s impeccable aim. The tide was only turned when Percy got fed up with getting hit and started hurling volleys of snowballs with banishing charms. Jazz responded by animating snowmen to attack. Harry and Danny teamed up to drop a snowbank on the other boys with the levitation charm.

“Never get involved in a land war in Asia; never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line; and never,  **_ever_ ** challenge a Fenton to a snowball fight.” Danny told the Weasleys as they dug themselves out of the snow.

Cold, wet, and gasping for breath, the party returned to the Gryffindor common room to warm up and dry off in front of the fire. Harry broke in his new chess set by losing spectacularly to Ron, despite, or perhaps  _ because _ of Percy’s advice. Danny’s luck was no better, and even Jazz’s intellect was no match for Ron’s skills at chess.

After a meal of turkey sandwiches, crumpets, trifle, and Christmas cake, everyone felt too full and sleepy to do much before bed except sit and watch Percy chase Fred and George all over Gryffindor tower because they’d stolen his prefect badge, and likely wouldn’t return it until it had been ‘properly pranked’.

After Ron had fallen asleep, no less than a second after his head had hit the pillow, Danny went to his trunk and pulled out a single blackish-gray candle. Pressing the wick between his fingertips, the wick caught fire and burned blue. He placed the candle on the windowsill, and sat on the edge of his bed.

Harry was still awake, and had removed the invisibility cloak from its hiding spot. He met Danny’s eyes, which looked so much older and hollow than a twelve-year-old’s eyes had any right to be.

“Come on.” Harry said, gesturing to the cloak that was halfway around his shoulders. The cloak covered with both easily. And they made their way through the common room. Jazz was sleeping in one of the plush armchairs, a book in her lap. They got out through the portrait hole with no problems, and set to exploring the castle as they had been previously unable to.

Invisible, the two meandered through the corridors, until they came to an unused classroom. Desks and chairs were piles against the walls, a wastepaper basket sat upturned in one corner, but it was what was propped against the wall opposite the door that caught their eyes.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. Engraved across the top were the words:  _ Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi _ .

The duo stepped in front of the mirror, and both of them had to clap their hands to their mouths to stifle their gasps.

Danny saw himself, his parents behind him, his cousin next to him, Jazz standing just behind him, and just in front of him was a girl with ice blue eyes and raven hair identical to his own. She couldn’t have been more than four years old. He also saw his hair lacking the shock of white in it.

His heart ached, as though someone had wrapped their hand around it and was doing their best to crush it.

“Mom, Dad” Harry whispered. Danny shook his head and stepped out so he couldn’t see the reflection in the mirror.

“Let’s go.” Danny said, his voice choked up. “I don’t think we were meant to see this.”

He had to drag Harry away by his arm before he would listen, and they made their way back to their dorm in silence.

Once again, Danny’s dreams were plagued with burning red eyes and heart-rending screams.

The next night, both Ron and Harry disappeared, and Danny had a sinking feeling of where they went.

The third night, Danny slipped out of bed and followed Harry, focusing on remaining unseen until they were both in the mirror room.

“So, back again, Harry?”

Danny dropped his invisibility as his insides turned to ice, and not in the way they usually did around ghosts.

Sitting on one of the desks by the wall was none other than Albus Dumbledore.

“I -- I didn’t see you sir.” Harry stammered.

“Strange how nearsighted being invisible can make you,” he gave Danny a look that said that he was speaking to both of them. Thankfully, he was smiling.

“So,” said Dumbledore, slipping off the desk. “You, like hundreds before you, have discovered the delights of the Mirror of Erised.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call them delights.” Danny mumbled to himself.

“I didn’t know it was called that, sir.” Danny looked at the top of the mirrors frame, and resisted introducing his palm to his face. ‘Erised’ was ‘desire’ backwards.

“But I expect you’ve realized by now what it does?”

“It -- well -- it shows me all of my family --”

“And it showed your friend Ron himself as head boy.”

“How did you know --”

“I don’t need a cloak to become invisible,” Dumbledore said gently.

“It shows our heart’s desire.” Danny answered his question.

“Indeed. The happiest man on earth would be able to use the Mirror of Erised like a normal mirror, that is, he would look into it and see himself exactly as he is. The Mirror does not give us knowledge or truth, only the deepest, most desperate desire of our hearts. You who have never known your parents, see them standing with the family that has raised you. Ronald Weasley, who has always been overshadowed by his brothers, sees himself standing alone, the best of them all. Men have wasted away before it, entranced by what they have seen, or been driven mad, not knowing if what it shows is real or even possible.”

“The Mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. If you  _ do _ run across it, you will now be prepared. It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that. Now, why don’t you put that admirable cloak back on and get off to bed?”

“Sir -- Professor Dumbledore? Can I ask you something?”

“Obviously, you’ve just done so,” Dumbledore smiled. “You may ask me one more thing, however.”

“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”

“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books.”

Harry stared for a moment before gesturing for Danny to come with him.

“I’ll be with you in a minute, I think the Professor might have a question for me.” Harry left the room.

“Indeed. I do not know what you see in the Mirror of Erised.” Dumbledore stated plainly.

“A tragedy undone.” Danny replied cryptically. “You sent Harry the cloak, didn’t you?”

“Yes, I believe that it was about time for him to reclaim his inheritance.”

“Why did Uncle James give it to you?” Danny asked.

“I wished to study its properties, and after the amount of rule-breaking I allowed them to get away with, he decided it was a fair trade.” Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye.

“The Mirror, it’s your protection for the Philosopher’s Stone, isn’t it?”

Dumbledore nodded, “Yes, and I daresay it may the most powerful protection possible for it. Now, I recommend you get off to bed as well, Mister Fenton.”

Danny slipped into bed without a sound, and repeated the professor’s advice.

“It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live.” He whispered to himself as he looked at the windowsill, where the candle had long since burned down.


	9. Quidditch and Suspicions, Round Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of the chapter come from chapter thirteen of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling.

For the rest of the Christmas holidays, Harry kept the invisibility cloak in the bottom of his trunk. Danny spent the remaining nights restless, but thankfully the nightmares had stopped for the time being. The same could not be said for Harry, whose dreams were marred with burning red eyes, his parents disappearing in a flash of green, and a high, cold laugh, the kind that sends shivers down the spines of the bravest men.

Thankfully, once the term started up again, Quidditch took up most of Harry’s time as Oliver Wood did his best impression of a drill sergeant.

Of course, Gryffindor’s chances against Hufflepuff took a dive when Wood revealed that Snape would be refereeing the match.

The argument about the merits of Harry breaking his leg to get out of the match was interrupted by Neville entering the common room, caught under a rather nasty-looking leg-locker curse.

“ _ Libera locomotor _ .” Danny cast the counter-curse.

“What happened?” Hermione asked once he had gotten back up.

“Malfoy,” said Neville shakily. “I met him outside the library. He said he’d been looking for someone to practice that on.”

“Go to Professor McGonagall!” Hermione urged Neville. “Report him!”

Neville shook his head. “I don’t want more trouble,” he mumbled.

“You’ve got to stand up to him, Neville!” said Ron. “He’s used to walking all over people, but that’s no reason to lie down in front of him and make it easier.”

“There’s no need to tell me I’m not brave enough to be in Gryffindor, Malfoy’s already done that,” Neville choked out.

“You’re worth twelve of Malfoy,” Harry said, handing him the last Chocolate Frog from Hermione’s Christmas present. Neville looked like he was about to cry.

Danny felt around in his pocket for a moment, and pulled out a small necklace with an intricately carved stone pendant. “Here,” he said, handing it to Neville. “Should block some of the more minor curses. Let’s see how Malfoy reacts when his spells don’t do anything.” The last part Danny said with a mischievous smirk.

“Thanks, Harry, Danny… I think I’ll go to bed…. D’you want the card, you collect them, don’t you?”

“Ptolemy,” Harry said, looking at the Famous Wizard card as Neville walked off.

“Hey Ron, didn’t you say you were missing Ptolemy and Agrippa?” Danny asked.

“Here you go,” Harry gave the card to Ron.

“So, back to our pressing concerns about the merits of broken limbs in dealing with greasy Potions Masters,” said Danny, “I think it’s obvious that Snape is trying to keep a closer eye on Harry. I saw someone casting a countercurse during the first match, and I’ll bet you anything it was Snape. He was the only teacher in front of Quirrell, and I saw the paths of the spells.”

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Danny spent the period glaring holes into Quirrell’s forehead from the back of the room, while Harry determined that the best course of action for the Quidditch match would be to end the game as quickly as possible.

“If I don’t play, all of the Slytherin’s will think I’m just too scared to face Snape. I’ll show them … it’ll really wipe the smiles off their faces if we win.”

“Just as long as we’re not wiping you off the field.” said Hermione.

On the day of the Quidditch match, Danny sat with Ron, Hermione, and Neville in the stands, with a clear line of sight to the teacher’s box.

“Remember, the incantation is  _ Obscuro _ . If Quirrell can’t see, he can’t cast.” Danny told Ron and Hermione, who had their wands with them this time. They had been practicing the simple conjuration in secret, and had gotten to the point where they could reliably cast the spell.

Then Danny noticed that Dumbledore was in the stands, and slid his wand back into its holster.

Snape, meanwhile, looked apoplectic.

“Look -- they’re off. Ouch!”

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy.

“Oh, sorry, Weasley, didn’t see you there.”

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle.

“Then maybe you should get glasses, if your eyesight’s so bad.” Danny quipped, Malfoy scowled.

“Wonder how long Potter’s going to stay on his broom this time? Anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?”

Ron didn’t answer, he, Danny, and Hermione were focused on Harry.

“You know how I think they choose people for the Gryffindor team?” said Malfoy a few minutes later, as Snape awarded yet another unwarranted penalty to Hufflepuff.”It’s people they feel sorry for. See, there’s Potter, who’s got no parents, then there’s the Weasleys, who’ve got no money -- you should be on the team, Longbottom, you’ve got no brains.”

Neville went bright red but turned in his seat to face Malfoy.

“I’m worth twelve of you, Malfoy,” he stated, a thread of iron in his voice.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle howled with laughter, but Ron, still not daring to take his eyes from the game, said, “You tell him, Neville.”

Longbottom, if brains were gold you’d be poorer than Weasley, and that’s saying something.”

“And you had any concern for your own well-being, you’d be out of my sight.” Danny growled.

“Danny!” said Hermione suddenly, “Harry --!”

“What? Where?”

Harry had gone into a sudden, spectacular dive, which drew gasps and cheers from the crowd. Hermione had her fingers crossed and in her mouth as she stood while Harry was streaking toward the ground like a bullet.

“Looks like you’re in luck, Weasley, Potter’s obviously spotted some money on the ground!” said Malfoy.

“One more word, Malfoy --”  began Danny, a scowl on his face.

“You’ll what? You skunk-haired freak.”

SMACK!

Draco’s head snapped to the side as he stumbled back and touched his cheek, shock coloring his features at the flecks of red now on his fingers.

“Say that again, ponce.” Danny snarled.

Goyle stepped forward, only to be tackled by Ron and Neville, who wrestled him to the ground. Crabbe got involved, only for Danny to lash out with a vicious kick that left the larger boy making a sound in the soprano range. It quickly devolved into a flurry of flying fists as the six boys wrestled.

Their fight was broken up by the cheers of Gryffindor. Harry had caught the Snitch, nearly colliding with Snape in the process.

“Danny! Ron! Where are you? The game’s over! Harry’s won! We’ve won! Gryffindor is in the lead!” shrieked Hermione, dancing up and down on her seat and hugging Parvati Patil in the row in front. Her celebrations were abruptly cut off when she saw Danny.

“Oh my god.” She whispered.

Danny had only gotten a couple bruises in the fight, but Crabbe had managed to rip the collar of his robe.

Danny realized what she had seen, and gave her a look that clearly said.’we’ll talk later’.

‘Later’ turned out to be during the party Gryffindor was throwing. Danny changed out of his robes and into his muggle clothes before bringing Hermione to an empty classroom.

“How did you get those scars?” she blurted out.

“It wasn’t a werewolf.” Danny answered.

“Then what? There aren’t any creatures that could leave marks like that!”

“It was a demon.” Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Those are real?” She exclaimed.

“What else do you call a living shadow with red eyes, horns, claws, and immunity to stunning spells?”

They were then met by Harry and Ron. Harry told them how he had overheard a conversation between Snape and Quirrell.

“As long as Quirrell doesn’t know how to get past Fluffy, he can’t get the stone, which means that the stone is only safe as long as Hagrid is the only one who knows how to deal with him.”

They grimaced. Hagrid was a good friend, but he did not know when to hold his tongue.

“It’ll be gone by next Tuesday.”


	10. The Dragon and the Forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter come from chapters fourteen, fifteen, and seventeen of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone by J.K. Rowling.

Quirrell, however, seemed to be biding his time, as while he grew thinner and paler in the following weeks, there was no sign of the stone being stolen. The quartet had taken to giving Quirrell suspicious looks as they passed, while Snape seemed eve more bad-tempered.

Of course, the cousins now to deal with nagging to study in stereo, as both Hermione and Jazz had drawn up study schedules with color-coded notes for them.

“Ten weeks,” Hermione snapped. “That’s not ages, that’s just around the corner from now.”

“What are you studying for, you already know it all.” Ron asked her.

“What am I studying for? Are you crazy? You realize we need to pass these exams to get into the second year? They’re very important, I should have started studying a month ago, I don’t know what’s gotten into me…”

“You finally have friends to spend time with?” Harry noted.

The glare Hermione gave him was legendary.

Of course, the teachers had started the ramp up to exams by piling as homework as possible on them, turning the Easter holidays into week long study session. It was hard to relax with Hermione next to you reciting the twelve uses of dragon’s blood or practicing wand movements. Most of their free time was spent in the library, trying to crawl through the mounds of extra work.

“I’ll never remember this,” ron burst out one afternoon, throwing down his quill and looking longingly out of the library window at the first clear day in months. The clear, forget-me-not blue sky left a feeling in the air that summer was fast approaching.

Danny was busy memorizing the recipe for the Forgetfulness Draught, and didn’t look up until he heard Ron say, “Hagrid! What are you doing in the library?”

The groundskeeper shuffled into view, hiding something behind his back. He looked very out of place in his moleskin overcoat.

“Jus’ lookin’,” he said, in a very shifty voice that got their interest at once. “An’ what’re you lot up ter?” He looked suddenly suspicious.

“Yer not still lookin’ fer the Stone, are yeh?”

“No, we know all about it,” said Harry, “but we do have a couple questions about what else is guarding the Stone apart from Fluffy --”

“SHHHH!” shushed Hagrid. “Listen -- come an’ see me later, I’m not promisin’ I’ll tell yeh anythin’, mind, but don’t go rabbitin’ about in here, students aren’t supposed ter know. They’ll think I’ve told yeh --”

“See you later, then,” said Harry.

Hagrid shuffled off.

“What was he hiding behind his back?” asked Hermione thoughtfully.

“Do you think it had anything to do with the Stone?”

“I’m going to see what section he was in,” said Ron, who was quite done with studying for the time being. He came back a minute later with a pile of books in his arms and slammed them down on the table.

 

“ _ Dragons! _ ” he whispered fearfully. ‘Hagrid was looking up stuff about dragons! Look at these:  _ Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland; from Egg to Inferno, A Dragon Keeper’s Guide. _ ”

Hagrid’s always wanted a dragon, he told us so the first time I ever met him,” Harry said, pulling Danny into the conversation.

“But it’s against our laws,” said Ron. “Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlock’s Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden -- anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous.  You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.”

“But there aren’t wild dragons in  _ Britain? _ ” asked Hermione.

“Of course there are,” said Ron. “Common Welsh Green and Hebridean Blacks. The Ministry of Magic has a job hushing them up, I can tell you. Our kind have to keep putting spells on Muggles who’ve spotted them, to make them forget.”

“Don’t forget the Ilfracombe Incident. Second largest mass-Obliviation in modern history.” Danny chipped in.

“Second largest? What was the largest?”

“New York City, 1926. The entire city was Obliviated with the venom of a tropical creature diluted with a storm after Grindelwald’s first capture.”

Hermione filed the information away for later while turning the conversation back to Hagrid.

“So what on earth’s Hagrid up to?”

 

Feeling paranoid, Harry had them take the invisibility cloak when they went to the gamekeeper’s hut and hour later. When they knocked on the door, they were surprised to see that all of the curtains were closed. Hagrid called “Who is it?” before he let them in, and shut the door quickly behind them.

It was stifling hot inside. Even though it was such a warm day, there was a blazing fire in the grate. Hagrid made them tea and offered them stoat sandwiches, which they politely refused.

“So -- yeh wanted to aske me somethin’?”

 

“Yes,” said Danny, who decided that beating around the bush wasn’t going to get them anywhere. “We were wondering if you could tell us what’s guarding the Philosopher’s Stone apart from Fluffy.”

Hagrid frowned at him.

“O’ course I can’t,” he said. “Number one, I don’t know meself. Number two, yeh know too much already, so I wouldn’ tell yeh if I could. That Stone’s here fer a good reason. It was almost stolen outta Gringotts -- I s’ppose yeh’ve worked that out an’ all? Beats me how yeh even know abou’ Fluffy.”

“I’m good at things like that.” Danny said.

“Oh, come on, Hagrid, you might not want to tell us, but you  _ do _ know, you know everything that goes on round here,” said Hermione in her most flattering voice. It seemed to work, as Hagrid’s beard twitched and they could tell he was smiling. “We only wondered who had  _ done _ the guarding, really.” Hermione went on. “We wondered who Dumbledore had trusted enough to help him, apart from you.”

Hagrid’s chest swelled at these last words. Danny wondered where she learned how to wrap people around her finger like that.

“Well, I don’ s’pose it could hurt ter tell yeh that … let’s see … he borrowed Fluffy from me .. then some o’ the teachers did enchantments … Professor Sprout -- Professor Flitwick -- Professor Snape -- an’ Dumbledore himself did somethin’, o’ course. Hang on, I’ve forgotten someone. Oh yeah, Professor Quirrell.”

“ _ Quirrell? _ He set up one of the protections?” If Quirrell was after the Stone, at least one of the protections was compromised, more so if he learned what the other teachers had done. The only one he didn’t seem to know was how to get past Fluffy, and possibly Snape’s protection, if the man was as suspicious as they thought.

“You’re the only one who knows how to get past Fluffy, aren’t you, Hagrid?” Harry asked anxiously. “And you wouldn’t tell anyone, would you? Not even one of the teachers?”

“Not a soul knows ‘cept me an’ Dumbledore,” said Hagrid proudly.

“Well that’s something,” muttered Danny to the others. “Hagrid, can we have a window open? We’re boiling here.”

“Can’t, Danny, sorry,” said Hagrid. He noticed him glance at the fire.

“Hagrid -- what’s  _ that _ ?” Harry asked, looking at the fire.

In the very heart of the fire, underneath the oversized teakettle, was a huge, black egg. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what animal it belonged to.

“Ah,” said Hagrid, fiddling nervously with his beard, “That’s -- er…”

“Where did you get it, Hagrid?” questioned Ron, crouching over the fire to get a closer look at the egg. “It must’ve cost you a fortune.”

“Won it las’ night.” Hagrid replied. “I was down in the village havin’ a few drinks an’ got into a game o’ cards with a stranger. Think he was quite glad ter be rid of it, ter be honest.”

“But what are you going to do with it when it’s hatched?” said Hermione.

“Well, I’ve bin doin’ some readin’,” said Hagrid, pulling out a large, dark red book from under his pillow. “Got this outta the library --  _ Dragon Breeding for Pleasure and Profit _ \-- it’s a bit outta date, o’ course, but it’s all in here. Keep the egg in the fire, ‘cause their mothers breathe on ‘em, see, an’ when it hatches, feed it on a bucket o’ brandy mixed with chicken blood every half hour. An’ see here -- how ter recognized diff’rent eggs -- what I got there’s a Norwegian Ridgeback. They’re rare, them.”

While Hagrid looked pleased with himself, Hermione most certainly wasn’t.

“Hagrid, you live in a  _ wooden house _ ,” she pointed out.

But Hagrid wasn’t listening. He was humming merrily as he stoked the fire.

 

“Wonder what it’s like to have a peaceful life,” Ron sighed, as evening after evening they struggled through all the extra homework they were getting.

“I’ll tell you if I find one.” Harry told him. They were starting to go nuts with Hermione and Jazz micromanaging their study schedules.

Then, one day at breakfast, Hedwig brought Harry another note from Hagrid. He had only written two words:  _ It’s hatching _ .

Ron wanted to skip Herbology and go straight down to the hut. Hermione wouldn’t hear of it. Danny told him to wait. 

“Don't they take a couple hours to hatch.” he whispered. Malfoy was approaching for his daily taunting.

One trade of barbed comments and a lesson on the uses of Dittany later, the quartet hurried through the grounds to the edge of the forest. Hagrid greeted them, looking flushed and excited.

“It’s nearly out.” He ushered them inside.

The egg was lying on the table. There were deep cracks in its smooth surface. Something was moving inside; a funny clicking noise was coming from it.

They all drew their chairs up to the table and watched with bated breath.

All at once there was a scraping noise and the egg split open. The baby dragon flopped onto the table. It wasn’t exactly pretty, looking more like a crumpled black umbrella. Its spiny wings were disproportionately huge compared to its skinny jet body. It had a long snout with wide nostrils, the stubs of horns and bulging, orange eyes.

It sneezed, sending a couple sparks from its snout.

“Isn’t he  _ beautiful _ ?” Hagrid murmured. He reached out a hand to stroke the dragon’s head. It snapped at his fingers, showing pointed and likely venomous fangs.

“Bless him, look, he knows his mummy!” said Hagrid. The dragon turned itself around, and locked eyes with Danny before jumping and climbing onto the twelve-year-old’s head, where it looked like a very awkward bonnet.

“I’ve been called a hothead, but this is ridiculous.” Harry laughed.

“Hagrid,” said Hermione, “how fast do Norwegian Ridgebacks grow, exactly?”

Hagrid was about to answer when the color suddenly drained from his face -- he leapt to his feet and ran to the window.

“What’s the matter?”

“Someone was looking through the gap in the curtains -- it’s a kid, long red hair -- she’s runnin’ back up ter the school.”

Danny bolted to the window, the hatchling dragon still perched on his head, and looked out. Even at a distance there was no mistaking the red hair and blue-accented robes.

Jazz had seen the dragon. Better than Malfoy seeing it, but not much better.

 

They were soon under the disapproving gaze of Professor McGonagall. The disapproving gaze was duplicated by Jazz, who had combined it with a raised eyebrow of exasperation.

“Skiving off class, knowing about an illegal object on school property and not reporting it, The only way I could be more ashamed of Gryffindor right now is if you had been out at night.” Professor McGonagall scolded. “As it is, twenty points from Gryffindor, each, and you will be serving detention at night a week from now, since you seem so keen on seeing Hagrid. Now, I have to talk to the Headmaster about getting that beast off the property before it becomes a hazard.”

“Your hair is still a rats nest.” Jazz told Danny as she walked off. Danny groaned,  and started trying to tame the mess that the dragon’s claws had left his hair.

Thankfully, the point loss for Gryffindor was believed by most people to be because of Snape and the Weasley twins, but it still didn’t sit right with them.

Dumbledore had the dragon sent to Romania, after Hagrid had given him the name ‘Norbert’, and it was a week before their nighttime detention.

At eleven o’clock that night, the quartet went down to the entrance hall to face their doom. Filch was already there.

“Follow me,” said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

“I bet you’ll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won’t you, eh?” he said, leering at them. “Oh yes … hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me…. It’s just a pity thay let the old punishments die out … hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I’ve got the chains still in my office, keep ‘em well oiled in case they’re ever needed…. Right, off we go, and don’t think of running off, now, it’ll be worse for you if you do.”

‘Note to self, have the twins wreck Filch’s office.’ Danny thought to himself. They marched off across the dark grounds, apprehension building with every step. What was their punishment going to be? It must have been something horrible for Filch to sound so delighted about it.

The moon was bright, but constantly obscured by the clouds. Ahead, Danny could see the lighted windows of Hagrid’s hut. Then they heard a distant shout.

“Is that you, Filch? Hurry up. I want ter get started.”

Danny’s heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn’t be so bad. Then again, the man thought trolls were just misunderstood.

His relief must have shown in his, or possibly Harry’s face, because Filch said, “I suppose you think you’ll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, boys -- it’s into the forest you’re going and I’m much mistaken if you all come out in one piece.”

“The forest?” Ron repeated. “We can’t go in there at night -- there’s all sorts of things in -- werewolves, I heard.”

“That’s your problem, isn’t it?” said Filch, his voice cracking with glee. “Should’ve thought of them werewolves before you in trouble, shouldn’t you?”

“Don’t worry, it not a full moon.” Danny assured Ron.

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder.

“Abou’ time,” he said. “I bin waitin’ fer half an hour already. All right Harry, Danny, Ron, Hermione?”

“I shouldn’t be too friendly to them, Hagrid,” said Filch coldly, “they’re here to be punished, after all.”

“That’s why yer late, is it?” said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. “Bin lecturin’ them, eh? ‘Snot your place ter do that. Yeh’ve done yer bit, I’ll take over from here.”

“I’ll be back at dawn,” said Filch, “for what’s left of them,” he added nastily, and he turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

“Right then,” said Hagrid, “now, listen carefully, ‘cause it’s dangerous what we’re gonna do tonight, an’ I don’t want no one takin’ risks. Follow me over here a moment.”

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

“Look there,” said Hagrid, pointing his crossbow at a spot on the ground, “see that stuff shinin’ on the ground? Silvery stuff? That’s unicorn blood. There’s a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This the second time this week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We’re gonna try an’ find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery.”

“And what if whatever hurt the unicorn finds us first?” Ron said fearfully, partially hidden behind Harry.

“There’s nothin’ that lives in the forest that’ll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang,” said Hagrid. “An’ keep ter the path. Right, now, we’re gonna split inter two parties an’ follow the trail in diff’rent directions. There’s blood all over the place, it must’ve bin staggerin’ around since last night at least.”

“We’ll take Fang,” said Danny.

“All right, but I warn yeh, he’s a coward on ‘is own,” said Hagrid. “So, me, Ron, an’ Hermione’ll go one way an’ Harry, Danny, an’ Fang’ll go the other. Now, if any of us finds the unicorn, we’ll send up green sparks, right? Get yer wands out an’ practice now.”

“ _ Verdimillious! _ ” Everyone got the green sparks to fly from their wands.

“That’s it,” said Hagrid, “an’ if anyone gets in trouble,send up red sparks, and we’ll all come an’ find yeh -- so, be careful -- let’s go.”

The forest was black and silent, the trees forming vicious silhouettes in the sparse moonlight. A little way into it they reached a fork in the path at a rather gnarled tree. Harry, Danny, and Fang took the path on the left while Hagrid took Ron and Hermione on the right.

“ _ Lumos. _ ” Harry and Danny lit their wands for illumination. They walked in silence, eyes to the ground as they followed the trail of silvery blood like a macabre Hanzel and Gretel. They stopped when they heard a raspy, hissing voice.

_ /Hunt...smell death...curse.../ _

A large viper slithered into the path, reached the trail of unicorn blood, and turned around, slithering back into the trees.

“You heard that snake talking, right?” Harry asked.

Danny nodded.

They continued on as the drops of unicorn blood grew larger until they came to a moonlight clearing. Lying in the center of it was the unicorn, dead. It’s presence painted a sad and beautiful tableau. Long, slender legs were stuck out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves. 

“ _ Verdimillious. _ ” Harry cast the green sparks upward before a slithering sound caught their ears. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered…. Then, out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast. The two boys and the dog stood transfixed. 

And then Harry screamed, hand clutched to forehead in pain. The unicorn-killer snapped its head up and Danny felt the sense of  _ wrongness _ twist in his gut like a knife. Fang bolted, barking at the top of his lungs, as the figure swept toward them. Danny shut his eyes…

And they snapped open a venomous green as he snarled in challenge. His hand shot forward, verdant fire bursting from his palm and hurling the figure back into a tree, the figure’s hood falling back.

Professor Quirrell glared back at them. He raised one hand and clenched his fist. Ropes burst from the ground and tied themselves around Harry and Danny. 

“I knew you were up to something, Quirrell, but killing unicorns?” Danny said defiantly.

“You do not understand the lengths I have gone for my master.” The Defense Professor said.

A high pitched voice rang out.

“Turn around,” it said, “and let me face them.”

Quirrell turned his back to him, revealing that where the back of his head should have been was instead another, terrifying face. Chalk white skin highlighted glaring red eyes and snake like slits where its nostrils should have been.

“Harry Potter…” it whispered, its scarlet gaze directed solely at Harry.

“See what I have become?” The face said. “Mere shadow and vapor… I have form only when I can share another’s body … but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds….”

“Talk about having eyes in the back of your head,” quipped Danny. The second face turned its gaze to him.

“And you are?” The face whispered.

“Introductions? Fine, I’m Danny Fenton, and you are?”

“You must not be from around here, else you would surely see that I am Lord Voldemort!” he hissed.

“Oh, so  _ you’re _ the bastard that killed my aunt and uncle,” said Danny. “Well, you made one tiny miscalculation.”

“And what would that be?”

“You got me involved.” The ropes around Harry glowed green and burned away, followed by an emerald fireball aimed directly at Voldemort’s pale face.

“ _ Diffindo _ ” a spark of light green split the ropes holding Harry, while Quirrelmort turned around and deflected the fireball, retorting with a wave of his hand that sent Danny flying. 

“ _ Obscuro! _ ” Harry hit Quirrell the the conjured blindfold, which was promptly ripped off.and vanished, before Quirrelmort lunged at Harry. Harry held out his hands in a last feeble defense, but when they came into contact with Quirrelmort’s arms, there was a sizzling sound, and the possessed Professor screamed in pain as he stumbled back.

“What magic is this?” Voldemort screamed, staring at his burned hands.

Danny shot up, his hand wreathed in emerald flames, and he charged at Quirrellmort.

Taking a flying leap, his fist passed through Quirrell’s skull as though it were a ghost. Caught on his knuckles on the way out was a mass of screaming dark smoke. Quirrell hit the ground unconscious, the growth on the back of his head gone.

The mass coalesced into a smokey wraith, which flew at the only other person in the clearing.

“Harry! Watch out!” Danny shouted too late. The wraith collided with Harry, and a golden red barrier crackled around him as the wraith flew through him.

Harry collapsed, and Danny roared, a bolt of killing curse green lancing from his hand to shear off part of the wraith as it fled into the night sky.

With the enemy gone, Danny felt drained. He also felt the drip of blood on his lip that told him his nose was bleeding. He fell to his knees.

Into the clearing strode three of the most beautiful wolves anyone had ever seen. Behind them followed Fang, looking rather proud of himself. He saw one of them slip under him and stand up, hoisting Danny onto his back. The other two did the same for Harry and Quirrell.

The last thing Danny saw was the wolves heading into the forest, and the silhouette of Hagrid, before he joined his cousin and teacher in the realm of unconsciousness.


	11. Conversations and Competitions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Recognizable portions of this chapter are from chapters sixteen and seventeen of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s/Sorcerer’s Stone by J. K. Rowling.

The last time Albus Dumbledore was awake after midnight, it was the night Voldemort had been, for all intents and purposes, vanquished. Now, he was in the Hospital wing, where he had two students and a professor laid up. In one corner, a hulking figure was perched on what was surely a too-small chair.

“Both boys are magically exhausted, and I had to patch up a nasty nosebleed on Mister Fenton,” said Madam Pomfrey.

“And Professor Quirrell?” asked Dumbledore with growing suspicion as to who had been trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone.

“He has third degree burns on his arms and hands, and what looks like the after effects of a nasty possession.”

“But he’s alive?” Dumbledore questioned.

“It looks like someone used a brute force exorcism to cleave whatever was possessing him out.”

Madam Pomfrey led him to the three beds now occupied hospital beds. Quirrell had his forearms and hands wrapped in thick bandages that looked not unlike mittens. On the other two beds were the boys, who had their robes traded out for linen hospital gowns. The first thing that drew the Headmaster’s eye was the set of scars on Danny’s neck.

“Cursed scars, no clue what made them. He doesn’t show any signs of even the weakened form of lycanthropy, and I found similar scars on Mister Potter’s chest.”

That drew the bearded wizard’s attention to the final bed. Harry was resting peacefully, but there was something off. It took a second for him to realize what.

Harry’s hair had turned a vivid scarlet.

Dumbledore cast a simple detection charm, which caused a golden glow to appear around him. A single silver eyebrow rose.

“It would seem there is more to young Harry than meets the eye.”

Poppy looked stumped for a moment before casting the same charm.

“A metamorphmagus?”

Albus nodded.

“But, how did it not show sooner?”

Dumbledore gave her his theory, which she found as reasonable as any.

“Now, what I would like to know is how these three came into your care.” He asked.

Hagrid chose that moment to wake up and shuffle over.

“Professor Dumbledore, sir, it’s my fault.” the half-giant said.

“How so?”

“We were out in the forest, trackin’ down a wounded unicorn. I suggested tha’ we split up ter find it easier. Harry an’ Danny found it, sent up green sparks like I told ‘em ter, but ‘fore we got there the wolves showed up, carryin’ both o’ them an’ Quirrell. The clearin’ they came from had the dead unicorn an’ signs of a fight. None of it woulda happened if I were there.”

“At ease, Hagrid, you couldn’t have known what was going to happen.” Dumbledore reassured the gamekeeper. He turned to Madam Pomfrey.

“Do tell me when Quirinus wakes up. I have a few questions he needs to answer.” The nurse nodded.

As he passed by Harry’s bed, he placed a hand over his forehead. Most Legilimency  required eye contact, the only exception being Tactile Legilimency. Of course, being able to read minds with only a touch was infinitely more difficult, and could only be performed by a witch or wizard of exceptional power and control, of which Albus was both. After seeing what Harry had seen in the forest, he took a detour and looked at what the boy was dreaming about.

What he found explained a good deal about the scars on his chest.

 

~~AWS~~

When Danny woke up, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“Did anyone get the number on the erumpet that hit me?”

“Sadly, it was no erumpet, but something far more malevolent.” A wizened voice said. Danny turned to see Dumbledore sitting next to Harry’s bed. He took in his surroundings and groaned when he realized he was in the hospital wing for the second time in the year.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Danny, Harry.”

Harry was sitting up, and it took him a second to realize that _his hair was changing colors_.

“Harry, you’re a metamorphmagus!” Danny blurted out. Harry’s eyes widened and he pulled strands of hair into view to see. Dumbledore handed him a mirror that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“I thought metamorphmagi had their powers when they were born?” Danny asked.

“Indeed, I believe Harry’s abilities may have suppressed, the night Voldemort killed his parents.” Dumbledore theorized. He turned to Harry.

“Harry, do you know why, in the forest, Quirrell could not touch you?”

“No, sir.”

“Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn’t realize that love as powerful as your mother’s love for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign … to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, his body full of Voldemort’s hatred, greed, and ambition, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good.”

“But how does this relate to Harry’s metamorph abilities?”

“Are you familiar with the law of unintended consequences?”

“That every action can cause something that you didn’t intend to happen?”

“Not those words exactly, but close enough. I believe that the protection became entwined with your talent, and when Voldemort set off the protection, it awoke your ability.”

“But _how_ am I a metamorphmagus?”

“I would like to think your father’s skills as a transfiguration prodigy may have had something to do with it. He was very good at changing his own appearance.” The Headmaster said with a twinkle in his eye.

“If it’s any consolation, I am very sorry.” A new voice spoke up. All heads turned to the other occupied bed. Quirrell had bandages around his arms and the back of his head. He was a bit less deathly pale, but still unhealthily thin.

“I let my own desire for knowledge and power blind me to making a deal with the devil.” He said sadly. “You needn’t worry about the Stone anymore. I don’t want anything to do with it.”

Dumbledore turned back to Harry.

“But why did Vol-, I mean, You-Know Who, go after me?” Harry asked, his hair shifting to black.

“Call him Voldemort, Harry. Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself. As for your question, that is something I cannot tell you yet. You will know, one day… put it from your mind for now, Harry. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know.”

It was clear there was no arguing the point.

“Sir? Is Voldemort… still alive?”

“Only in the sense that he exists and is conscious.”

“But, even if he can’t get the Stone, he’s going to try other ways of coming back, isn’t he? I meas, he hasn’t gone, has he?”

“No, Harry, he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share … not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. Had he remained with Quirrell, he would have surely left him to die once he had fulfilled his purpose to him; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, Harry, Danny, while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time -- and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power at all.”

Dumbledore left them to their rest after that, and it was another day before the cousins were allowed out of the Hospital wing. Harry had managed to keep his hair one color, so no one else knew that he was a metamorphmagus. Naturally, he told Ron and Hermione, and after some convincing by Danny, Neville was let in on the secret.

With the life-threatening drama of the year over with, the only things left were the upcoming exams and Quidditch.

They had taken their final exams in the first week of June. It was sweltering hot, the kind of weather that makes one reconsider the practicality of black robes as day wear, and nowhere more so than in the large classroom where they did the written portion of their exams. They were all given special quills for the exams, ones charmed with an anti-cheating spell. Once the paperwork was done, they had practical exams.

In Charms class, Professor Flitwick called them up one by one to bewitch a pineapple to tapdance across the table.

Transfiguration had them changing a mouse into a snuffbox. Professor McGonagall gave them points for how pretty the resulting snuffbox was, and docked them if they retained any part of the mouse, such as whiskers, as was usually the case.

Snape breathed down their necks during the Potions practical, watching as they brewed a Forgetfulness Draught. He was clearly being ironic in his choice of assignment.

In Astronomy, the practical involved observing and identifying the moons of Jupiter, with Professor Sinistra making sure they stayed on task.

The practical in Herbology had them demonstrate how to repel Devil’s Snare. The plants didn’t much like sunlight, or fire. _Lumos Solem_ was the ideal spell to use, as they lost points for damaging the vines.

In Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell had recovered enough from his ordeal as Voldemort’s puppet to oversee their practical, where they demonstrated several basic defensive charms, the most useful one for dealing with an adversary being the Knockback Jinx.

History of Magic was their last exam, which boiled down to one hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who’d invented self-stirring cauldrons because they couldn’t be bothered to stir their own. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, everyone was cheering as they left the room.

With exams over and done with, the only major event before the end of the year was Quidditch, where Gryffindor won a narrow victory against Ravenclaw, winning the Quidditch Cup and putting them back in the lead for the House Cup.

Before they knew it, it was time for the End-of-Year Feat.The Great HAll was decked out in the Gryffindor colors of red and gold to celebrate Gryffindor’s winning the house cup for the first time in more than seven years. The Slytherins looked none too happy about the huge banner with a towering Gryffindor lion covering the wall behind the Head Table.

“Another year gone!” Dumbledore said cheerfully. “And I must trouble you with an old man’s wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are a little fuller than they were... you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts…

“Now, as I understand it, the house cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; in third, Ravenclaw, with three hundred and ninety-nine; Slytherin has four hundred and seventy-two, and Gryffindor, four hundred and eighty six.”

A storm of cheering and stamping broke out across the Gryffindor table. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were also cheering, mostly at the dismay of the Slytherins, whose winning streak had finally been cut out from under them. Snape was sporting a rather horrible forced smile as he shook Professor McGonagall’s hand. The look he gave Harry when he caught his eye told him that, while he may not have been the one trying to steal the Philosopher’s Stone, he did not like Harry one bit. This didn’t worry either of the cousins, though, since it seemed as though life would be back to normal next year, or as normal as it ever was at Hogwarts.

Danny wondered why he felt a sudden sense of foreboding, as though the universe had just said ‘wanna bet?’

Exam results came in the day after the feast. Harry, Danny, and Ron had all gotten decent marks. Hermione, of course, scored top of the class in every subject save Defense, where Harry had had gotten top marks, and Transfiguration, where Danny was slightly more skilled. Even Neville managed to scrape through, his abysmal Potions mark balanced out by his marks in Herbology, which were nearly at Hermione’s level. They had hoped that at least one of Malfoy’s cronies might be thrown out for failing, or else held back a year, but sadly for them both Crabbe and Goyle had passed. It was a shame, but as Ron said, you couldn’t have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville’s toad was found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes were handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays. Fred Weasley had hoped they had forgotten to hand them out and was disappointed. Hagrid was there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sailed across the lake; they were boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the the countryside became greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans as they sped past muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on their jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King’s Cross Station.

It took a while for everyone to disembark. A wizened old guard had them pass through the gate in twos and threes to avoid drawing attention from the Muggles by bursting out all at once.

“You must come and stay this summer,” said Ron, “both of you -- I’ll send you an owl.”

“Thanks,” said Danny,”If the insanity at home gets to be too much, I’ll be sure to send Ghost your way.”

People jostled them as they moved forward toward the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them called:

“Bye, Harry!”

“See you, Potter!”

“Still famous,” said Ron, grinning at him.

“Not where I’m going, I’m hoping for a quiet summer this year.” said Harry.

He, Ron, and Hermione passed through the gateway together, followed by Danny and Jazz.

“There he is, Mom, there he is, look!”

It was Ginny Weasley, Ron’s younger sister, but she wasn’t pointing at Ron.

“Harry Potter!” she squealed. “Look, Mom! I can see --”

“Be quiet, Ginny, and it’s rude to point.”

“Looks like you’ve got a fan.” Danny elbowed Harry.

Mrs. Weasley was standing next to Mrs. Fenton, and smiling down at them.

“Busy year?” she asked.

“Very,” said Harry. “Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs Weasley.”

“Oh, it was nothing, dear.”

“Where’s dad?” Danny asked.

“At home, he says he’s on the verge of a breakthrough on our latest project.”

“Will the house still be standing when we get back?” Jazz asked.

“Well, nothing he’s working with _should_ be dangerous.”

“Parallel. Dimension.” Harry said, which spurred them to get to the car rather quickly. They said their goodbyes to their friends, and quickly made their way home, where the house was, thankfully, still there and undamaged.

The children got their trunks up to their rooms and unpacked while Mrs. Fenton went to make sure her husband didn’t cause any explosions, esoteric or otherwise.

Jazz had her own room, while Harry and Danny shared a bedroom. The cousins bedroom had pale blue-gray walls around the two beds, which no sported bedspreads in gryffindor colors. The ceiling was an attempt to replicate one of the facets of Hogwarts castle, specifically the charmed ceiling of the Great Hall. Rather than show the sky as it was, it was a perpetual night sky, that was nevertheless accurate. Mrs. Fenton considered it the greatest charms-work she had ever performed. She had enchanted the ceiling after catching Danny and Harry sneaking out of bed to stargaze one too many times. Another bonus of the ceiling was that, unlike London, the night sky was clear, none of the clouds or light pollution that obscured the view from the city.

Is was shortly after they had completely unpacked that the cousins heard a shout of “Eureka!”

They quickly made their way down to the lab, a basement carved out under the kitchen with magic, where the Fenton parents performed their experiments and tinkering. The cousins found their parents/guardians tinkering with some muggle appliances.

“We finally got the VHS and telly to work with magic!” Jack Fenton proudly declared.

That evening was quickly taken up by a massive movie marathon that covered about the last decade of muggle pop culture.

 

**End of Year One.**


	12. Dobby’s Warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book Two - The Heir of Slytherin

_ July 31, 1992 _

Summer at Number Fourteen, Grimmauld Place had been an ordinary summer for the Fentons, well, as ordinary as could be for the Fentons, who stretched the meaning of the word, even for a family of wizards. Ordinary for the Fentons meant a house-rattling explosion from the basement laboratory every other day in a good week.

As this was Harry and Danny’s first summer as full-fledged wizards, and allowed the use of their wands, Maddie had chosen to start teaching them to duel.

Maddie Fenton had auburn hair and soft purple eyes, a color that marked her as a Legilimens, a witch or wizard naturally able to read the minds of others, something that took months if not years of training to do otherwise. It was for this reason the Fenton children had already trained themselves in Occlumency, the art of defending the mind from external forces. Jazz had easily taken to it, and enjoyed the boost to her memory recall that it provided. While Danny’s mind was less organized, he made up for it by having mental walls that resisted most basic attempts to breach them. Harry Potter, the Fenton’s nephew and unofficial brother to Danny, had the least success with Occlumency, but could put up halfway decent barriers when pressed.

The only part of the summer that seemed off was the distinct lack of mail sent to Harry and Danny. Ordinarily they would have chalked it up to their lack of friends, but Ron and Hermione had promised to write to them at least every week, just to keep in touch. 

A small part of Danny was worried something was keeping them from doing so.

That particular morning, the cousins came for breakfast to a stack of presents for Harry. Last year they had taken a trip to Diagon Alley for Harry’s birthday, where they got his school supplies. This year was more low-key, but still fruitful.

Harry’s gifts included a broom-maintenance kit for his Nimbus 2000, a set of self-refilling quills, which did not require an ink pot, and several books on Quidditch. 

The highlight of the day, however, was when the Tonks family visited. 

The Tonks’, like the Fentons, were both disowned branches of the Black Family, for the same reason. Maddie was the daughter of Dorea Potter, born Dorea Black, who was the youngest sister of Andromeda’s grandfather Pollux. Both Andromeda and Maddie had been disowned from the Black family for marrying a muggleborn wizard. Of course, more than just a social call, their visit gave Harry a chance to meet the only other Metamorphmagus in Britain. Nymphadora Tonks, who was liable to hex anyone who called her by her first name except her mother and a few select people, had graduated

Hogwarts the year before Harry and Danny had started there. She was currently in her first year of Auror training, under none other than Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, who had high hopes for her.

“So, let’s see what you can do.” She had said as she started the lesson on Metamorphmagi. Harry had responded by turning his hair a deep scarlet and his eyes hazel, an inversion of his normal features in relation to his parents. 

“Okay, hair and eyes are easy, especially with just changing color, but can you do  _ this _ ?” Tonks stated before turning her nose into a beak-like protuberance reminiscent of Professor Snape. Harry was impressed, and it took half an hour before he could do something similar, only his was distinctly more bird-like. 

The rest of the lesson had gone in a similar vein, and lasted most of the afternoon. By the time it was over, Harry was exhausted from morphing his features to such a degree repeatedly. After dinner, which included birthday cake for Harry, the Tonks’ left, and an exhausted Harry and slightly less tired Danny made their way up to their room.

However, when they got there, they found the room already occupied, an intruder sitting on Harry’s bed.

It was a house-elf, identifiable by the large, bat-like ears and bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls. It’s attire consisting of nothing but rags, which looked to have once been a pillowcase.

“Er -- hello,” said Harry nervously. The elf bowed so low that its long, thin nose touched the rug.

“Harry Potter!” said the elf in a high pitched voice. “So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, sir … Such an honor it is….”

“Th-thank you,” said Harry. Danny, however, was a bit more suspicious.

“Who are you?” the elder of the two cousins asked. The last time someone had gotten into their house, it left him with nightmares that persisted for years afterward.

“Dobby, sir, Just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,” said the now-named Dobby.

“Why are you here?” Danny asked.

“Oh, you must be Danny Fenton, Dobby has heard of Danny Fenton, the one who is always with Harry Potter.” 

“But is there any particular reason you’re here?” Harry asked.

“Oh, yes, sir,” said Dobby earnestly. “Dobby has come to tell you, sir … it is difficult, sir … Dobby does not know where to begin….”

“Sit down,” said Harry politely, gesturing to the bed. The elf burst into tears.

“ _ S-sit down! _ ” he wailed. “ _ Never… never ever… _ ”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything --”

“Offend Dobby!” choked the elf. “Dobby has  _ never _ been asked to sit down by a wizard -- like an  _ equal _ \--”

Harry ushered Dobby back onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing. At last he managed to control himself, and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harry in an expression of watery adoration.

“You can’t have met many decent wizards, then,” said Danny, trying to cheer the little elf up. 

Dobby shook his head. Then, without even a second of warning, he leapt up and started banging his head against the window, shouting, “ _ Bad _ Dobby!  _ Bad _ Dobby!” 

“What are you doing?” Harry hissed, spring up and pulling Dobby away from the window and back to the bed before being joined by Danny. The commotion was enough to wake Hedwig and Ghost from their slumbers, and they started beating their wings and screeching from their perches.

“Dobby had to punish himself, sir,” said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. “Dobby almost spoke ill of his family sir….”

“Do they know you’re here?” asked Danny warily.

Dobby shuddered.

“Oh, no, sir, no … Dobby will have to punish himself.most grievously for coming to see you, sir. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, sir --”

Danny now wanted to introduce whoever Dobby’s Family was to the power he used on Quirrelmort in the Forbidden Forest.

“But won’t they notice if you shut your ears in the oven door?” said Harry.

“Dobby doubts it, sir. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something, sir. They lets dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they reminds me to do extra punishments….”

The temperature suddenly dropped a couple of degrees as Danny grit his teeth.

“Can’t anyone help you? Can’t I?”

Harry quickly regretted saying that, as Dobby dissolved again into wails of gratitude.

“Harry Potter asks if he can help Dobby … Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew….”

“Whatever you’ve heard of my greatness is a load of rubbish.” Harry said, feeling distinctly hot in the face. “I’m not even top of my year at Hogwarts, Danny is ahead of me, and Hermione is at the top.”

“Harry Potter is humble and modest,” said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. “Harry Potter speaks not of his triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named --”

“Voldemort?” said Harry.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, “Ah, speak not the name, sir! Speak not the name!”

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “I know lots of people don’t like it. My friend Ron always flinches.”

Dobby leaned toward Harry, his eyes wide as headlights.

“Dobby heard tell,” he said hoarsely, “that Harry Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just weeks ago … that Harry Potter escaped  _ yet again _ .”

Both cousins nodded and Dobby’s eyes suddenly shone with tears.

“Ah, sir,” he gasped, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase that was his attire. Harry Potter is valiant and bold! He has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harry Potter, to warn him, even if he  _ does  _ have to shut his ears in the over door later….  _ Harry Potter must not go back to Hogwarts. _ ”

“Why, what’s so dangerous about Hogwarts that Harry can’t go back?” Danny questioned.

“Harry Potter must stay where he is safe. He is too great, too good, to lose. If Harry Potter goes back to Hogwarts, he will be in mortal danger.” Dobby squeaked.

“Why?” said both cousins. In surprise.

“There is a plot, Harry Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year,” whispered Dobby, now trembling all over. “Dobby has known it for months, sir. Harry Potter must not put himself in peril. He is too important, sir!”

“What terrible things?” Harry said at once. “Who’s plotting them?”

Dobby made a funny choking sound and it was only the vice-like grip Danny had on his arm that kept him from banging his head against the wall. 

“All right, you can’t tell us. I understand.” said Danny.

“But why are you warning  _ me _ ?” Harry asked. “Hang on -- this hasn’t got anything to do with Vol- -- sorry -- with You-Know-Who, has it? Just nod or shake.”

Slowly, Dobby shook his head.

“Not -- not  _ He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named _ , sir --” Dobby’s wide eyes seemed to be trying to give them a hint.

“One of his followers, then? No one’s breaking out of Azkaban, are they?”

Dobby nodded and then shook his head. He also had a look that said he was trying to punish himself again.

“Well then, they’d better think twice, since the last time Voldemort met us, I turned him back into a puff of smoke.” Danny said, snapping his fingers and holding up a green flame.

Dobby’s eyes widened even more, and he leapt off the bed to bow again, the tips of his ears now touching the floor.

“Danny Fenton, sir, is …  _ The Great One! _ ”

“Great One?” Danny asked, extinguishing the emerald fire.on his fingertips.

“Many apologies, Great One, sir… Dobby knows that Harry Potter is safe with the Great One watching over him. Dobby is sorry for stopping Harry Potter’s mail to make Harry Potter think his friends had forgotten him.” Dobby pulled out a thick wad of envelopes from the inside the pillowcase he was wearing.

Dobby dropped the wad and then disappeared in a puff of smoke and a crack like a whip.

“O-kay, that was a weird.” Danny said as Harry retrieved the letters. Harry sat back down on his bed as he read through the his friends’ letters. 

“Oh, Hermione is in Majorca with her parents.” Harry noted. “And it looks like Mr. Weasley’s Muggle Protection Act is is going to happen. We should tell your parents to talk to him about the things they’re working on.” 

“Good for them. Alright.” Danny said, his mind elsewhere.

‘ _ Why did he call me ‘Great One’, and what’s this plot by Voldemort’s followers have to do with Hogwarts? _ ’ Danny contemplated while looking into another emerald fire he had conjured and was holding in his hand.

‘ _ And what is this green fire!?’ _


	13. Diagon Alley - Year Two.

_ August 19, 1992 _

When the Fentons went to Diagon Alley for school supplies, they wound up meeting none other than the Weasley family at the Leaky Cauldron. While The parents chattered, the children got the pleasantries out of the way.

“Hey mate,” Ron greeted Harry. “How was your summer? I didn’t get any letters from you ‘til two weeks ago!”

“Aside from the crazy house elf who was blocking my mail, it was pretty good.”

“Crazy house elf?”

“It’s a long story.”

Harry told his best friend about the house elf’s antics. Fred and George let themselves in on the conversation.

“Very fishy,” said Fred when he finished the tale.

“Definitely dodgy,” agreed George. “So he wouldn’t even tell you who’s supposed to be plotting all this stuff?”

“No, and he seemed to be worshipping the ground Harry walked on.” Danny chimed in.

“Oh, really, mister ‘Great One’” Harry quipped back. 

“Yeah, I still have no idea what that was about. I might have to ask Jazz or Hermione about it.”

“We’ll keep our eyes peeled for anything suspicious.” Fred told them.

“Aside from when  _ you’re _ acting suspicious?”

The twins replied with a laugh.

By the time they were done, the parents took them into the Diagon Alley, where they promptly headed to Gringotts. On the marble steps, they met Hermione, whose parents were exchanging pounds for galleons.

While Arthur excitedly chatted up Hermione’s non-magical parents, Ron, Hermione, and the cousins all got caught up on their summer adventures. The magical families were then led to their vaults by the goblins who ran Gringotts. Danny was surprised the cart was able to hold all twelve off them, but then remembered that magic can make space go much further than the laws of physics intended.

After the Weasley’s had practically emptied their vault, Harry shovelled a few handfuls of galleons into a leather bag, and Maddie retrieved a small pouch worth of gold. When they left Gringotts, and broke up to do the shopping.

“We’ll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy your schoolbooks,” said Mrs Weasley, setting off with Ginny. “And not one step down Knockturn Alley!” she shouted at the twins’ retreating backs.

The quartet of Harry, Danny, Ron, and Hermione meandered down the winding cobblestone street. The bag of jangling coins of gold, silver, and bronze was yearning to be spent, so the first purchase he made was of four large strawberry and peanut butter ice creams from from Fortescue’s Parlour, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley. As they walked, they perused the various shops that lined the street. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry ran in, and a few minutes later left with a smug grin on his face directed at Danny.

“Okay, what did you do?” the icy-eyed boy asked.

“You’ll find out soon.”

Hermione dragged them to buy fresh ink and parchment at Scribbulus Writing Implements next door. While there, Danny got a bottle of acid green ink that reminded him of the green fire he had wielded against Quirrelmort. 

In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and restocking on dungbombs. Danny and Harry quietly agreed to start a prank war with the twins. Considering the prank Danny had played on Malfoy last September, the twins were in for some fierce competition.

The quartet found Percy in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks long stained with various potions. The eldest Weasley brother still at Hogwarts had his nose in a boring-looking book titled  _ Prefects Who Gained Power _ .

“ _ A study of Hogwarts Prefects and their later careers, _ ” Ron read aloud off the back cover with a scoff. “That sounds  _ fascinating _ ….”

“Go away,” Percy snapped, not even raising his gaze from the book.

“‘Course, he’s very ambitious, Percy, he’s got it all planned out…. He wants to be Minister of Magic…” Ron told the other three in an undertone as they left Percy to his reading.

“Flourish and Blotts at one!” Hermione reminded him as they left the shop.

After restocking their potions ingredients at Mr Mulpepper’s Apothecary, and getting more owl treats for Hedwig and Ghost, the quartet headed to Flourish and Blotts, meeting up with their parents.

A large crowd was jostling outside the doors to the book shop, trying to get in with almost desperate abandon. The reason for the crowd was proclaimed with a large banner that took up the entire upper floor of the storefront.

**GILDEROY LOCKHART**

Will be signing copies of his autobiography

_ MAGICAL ME _

Today 12:30 PM to 4:30 PM

“We can actually meet him!” Hermione squealed like a five year old. “I mean, he’s written almost the entire booklist!”

“ _ I have a bad feeling about this. _ ” Danny whispered to Harry and Ron.

A harassed-looking wizard stood at the door, letting in the crowd, which consisted mostly of witches their parent’s age.

“Calmly, please, ladies…. Don’t push, there… mind the books, now….”

The quartet squeezed inside. The shop floor was filled with a long line that wound right to the back of the shop, where the celebrity monster hunting wizard was signing his books. They each grabbed a copy of  _ The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 _ and sneaked up to the line where the rest of the Weasleys and Fentons were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger. 

“Oh, there you are, good,” said Mrs. Weasley, breathless as she kept patting her hair. :We’ll be able to see him in a minute….”

Gilderoy Lockhart did not look like what a famed monster hunter would look like. He was surrounded by large pictures of himself, all of them winking and flashing dazzling white teeth at the crowd. Lockhart himself was clad in forget-me-not blue robes that matched the shade of his eyes, while his hat, a standard wizard’s style, was set at a jaunty angle on his wavy blonde hair.

In Danny’s opinion, the guy looked like he should be modelling beauty products, not hunting monsters across the world. 

The air was filled with bright flashes and puffs of smoke from the camera of a short, irritable-looking man.

“Out of the way, there,” he snarled at Danny, moving back to get a better shot, and stepping on his foot in the process. “This is for the  _ Daily Prophet _ \--”

“Big deal,” Danny snorted, rubbing his trodden-upon foot.

Gilderoy Lockhart did seem to have a good sense of hearing, since he heard him. He looked up, likely to see who had  _ dared _ to dismiss him. His eyes flicked over Ron, thenn Danny, before locking on Harry. He leapt to his feet, exclaiming: “It  _ can’t _ be, Harry Potter?”

The crowd parted, whispering excitedly; Harry suppressed a groan. Lockhart dived forward, seized Harry’s arm, and pulled him to the front. The crowd burst into applause. Harry was regretting coming as himself, of course, none of his morphs actually hid his scar, so he hadn’t bothered to shift. Harry’s face burned, and it was only his Metamorphmagus talent that kept his face from going red as Lockhart shook his hand for the photographer, who was clicking away madly, filling the air with even more purple smoke. 

‘Nice big smile, Harry,” said Lockhart, through his own unnaturally white teeth. “Together, you and I are worth the front page.”

When he finally had his hand back, he could barely feel his fingers. He tried to sidle back to the Fentons, but Lockhart threw an arm around his shoulders and clamped him tightly to his side.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said loudly, waving for quiet. “What an extraordinary moment this is!” The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I’ve been sitting on for some time!

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography -- which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge --” The crowd applauded again. “He had  _ no idea, _ ” Lockhart continued, undaunted by the glare Harry was leveling at him, “that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book,  _ Magical Me _ . He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”

“ _ Called it! _ ” Danny shouted from the crowd. Harry had to shift his center of gravity to avoid staggering under the weight of the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart that were piled into his arms. He managed to edge his way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Ginny Weasley was standing next to her new, if second-hand, cauldron.

“You have these,” Harry mumbled to her, tipping the books into the cauldron. “I can buy my own --”

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?” said an unmistakable haughty voice. He straightened up and found himself face-to-face with none other than Draco Malfoy, who was sporting his usual sneer.

“ _ Famous _ Harry Potter,” sneered Malfoy, as Danny edged his way to his cousin. “Can’t even go into a  _ book-shop _ without making the front page.”

“Leave him alone, he didn’t want all that!” scowled Ginny. It was the first time she had spoken in front of Harry. He remembered that Ron had told him that she was an almost obsessive fan of Harry. Right now. She was glaring at Malfoy.

“Potter, you’ve got yourself a  _ girlfriend _ !” drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet while Danny strode in, followed by Ron and Hermione.

“I wondered who brought in all the grease. I was worried for a second that Professor Snape was here.” Danny said, leveling an icy glare at the blonde.

“Bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?” said Ron, who was looking at Malfoy as though he were something particularly unpleasant he had stepped in.

“Not as surprised to see you in a shop, Weasley,” retorted Malfoy with a similar look. “I suppose you’re parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those.”

Ron went as red as Ginny. He dropped his books in Ginny’s cauldron, too, and started toward Malfoy, but Harry and Hermione grabbed the back of his jacket while Danny blocked his way with his arm. 

“Ron!” shouted Mr. Weasley, struggling over with Fred and George. “What are you doing? It’s too crowded in here, let’s go outside.”

“Well, well, well -- Arthur Weasley.” An even more haughty voice sounded.

It could only be Draco’s father. He had the same pale, pointed face; identical cold, gray eyes, and the same shade of platinum blonde hair, worn down to his shoulders. He stood with his hand on Draco’s shoulder, an identical sneer on his face.

“Lucius,” Mr. Weasley said with a cold nod.

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear. All those raids… I hope they’re paying you overtime?”

Malfoy senior reached into Ginny’s cauldron and extracted, from amid the glossy covers of Lockhart’s books, a copy of  _ A Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration _ , which was at least third- if not fourth-hand.

“Obviously not,” the man with the snake-head cane said. “Dear me, what’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don’t even pay you well for it?

The flush on Mr. Weasley’s face was darker than either of his children’s.

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy,” he said confidently.

“Clearly,” drawled Mr. Malfoy, his pale gaze straying to the Fentons and Grangers, who were watching apprehensively. “The company you keep, Weasley… and I thought your family could sink no lower --”

There was a metallic thud as Ginny’s cauldron hit the ground; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy like a berserker, sending the latter flying backwards into a bookshelf. Dozens of rather heavy spellbooks crashed down on all their heads with a sound like rolling thunder. One of the twins yelled “Get ‘im, Dad!”; Mrs Weasley was shrieking, “No, Arthur, no!”; the quartet was caught up in the backwards stampede of the crowd as more shelves toppled.

“Break it up, there, gents, break it up --”

The two brawling wizards were pulled apart by a pair of massive hands. Hagrid had waded through the sea of books and people to break up the fight, and holding them up like misbehaving kittens. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip, and Mr. Malfoy had a black eye from where an  _ Encyclopedia of Toadstools _ had hit him in the rain of texts. Despite this, he was still holding Ginny’s old Transfiguration book. He thrust it at her, eyes glittering with pure malice and just a hint of deviousness.

“Here, girl -- take your book -- it’s the best your father can give you --” He snarled as he pulled himself out of Hagrid’s grip before sweeping from the shop with Draco in tow.

“Yeh should’ve ignored him, Arthur,” grumbled Hagrid, practically lifting the red-haired wizard off his feet as he straightened his robes. “Rotten ter the core, the whole family, ev’ryone knows that -- no Malfoy’s worth listenin’ ter -- bad blood, that’s what it is -- come on now -- let’s get outta here.”

It was a subdued group that entered the Leaky Cauldron from the back. The Weasleys left by Floo, while the Fentons left the pub with the Grangers, explaining how people like the Malfoys looked down on people who couldn’t do magic and those who associated with them. They parted ways at their cars, and drove back home in silence.

At dinner that night, an trio of great owls flew in, dropping a long, thin package in front of Danny. He looked at his cousin with a raised eyebrow.

“Open it.”

Inside the parcel was a Nimbus Two-Thousand.

“So you can try out for Quidditch this year.” Harry said. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one in the air.”

Danny gave his cousin a hug.


	14. Journey to Hogwarts - Year Two

_ September 1, 1992 _

The Fentons had arrived at King’s Cross Station early as usual, due to Jack Fenton’s driving, which was akin to riding the Knight Bus. Harry and Danny sometimes wondered if he had put some of the purple triple-decker bus’ enchantments on the family car, or if he was just  _ that _ insane a driver.

On the Express, Jazz went to join her study group, leaving Harry and Danny to find a compartment. Once settled, they were joined by Hermione and Neville. 

As was the norm, the Weasleys were only barely on time in arriving at King’s Cross. The quartet was soon joined by Ron and Ginny. The youngest Weasley was doing a good impression of a tomato sitting next to Harry.

“So, how was your summer?” Harry asked Neville.

“It was alright.” Neville said timidly.

Once the train was moving, they group of six was joined by another first year, a girl with long blonde hair and pale blue eyes that seemed to have a permanently surprised look to them. Ginny lit up.

“Oh, this is my friend Luna, Luna Lovegood.” She introduced.

“May I join you? There are surprising few Wrackspurts in this compartment.” This elicited more than one raised eyebrow. 

“What are Wrackspurts?” Danny finally asked.

“They’re invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. I was worried Ginny might have had an infestation of them, but they seem to be avoiding this part of the train.” Luna said as she sat next to Danny. Hermione looked to be in disbelief, but seemed to suppress it after looking at Danny.

“So, how was your summer, Luna?” Ginny asked.

“”It was quite pleasant, even though daddy and I failed to find any Crumple-Horned Snorkacks.”

“Umm… Snorkacks?” Neville finally asked, after a stifling silence.

“Yes,” Luna said plainly. “They’re very skittish, you know. Very good at hiding. Daddy’s been looking for them since before I was born.”

“I don’t know about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but there is a Crested Snorkack. It feeds on Chizpurfles.” Danny said.

Luna looked vindicated.

“How do know that?” Ron asked, intrigued.

“One of them got into the Fenton’s lab and tore the place apart until it found a nest of them. After that, it just disappeared in a puff of smoke.” Harry explained.

“What are Chizpurfles?” Hermione asked. She was not used to not knowing something that her peers knew.

“Tiny crab-like creatures that eat magical substances. They might as well be the magical version of fleas, ticks, and termites rolled into one.” Harry explained. Hermione looked rather disgusted at the thought.

“At least there’s something that gets rid of them.”

“True.”

Danny turned to Luna. “So, Luna, any relation to Xenophilius Lovegood?” 

“He’s my daddy.”

“Figures. Dad has a subscription to  _ The Quibbler _ . It drives Mom nuts since she can’t find any evidence. Sometimes I wonder who was the Gryffindor and who was the Ravenclaw at Hogwarts.” Jack Fenton had been a Ravenclaw, and couldn’t have been prouder when he got word his daughter had been sorted into his old house. Maddie had been a Gryffindor, and actually shared a dorm with Molly Prewett, better known as Molly Weasley. 

“Our dad’s were actually roommates at Hogwarts.” Danny said.

“Oh, that’s nice. Did they get along?” 

“Like a house on fire.” Danny deadpanned, eliciting a round of chuckles through the compartment. 

When the sweets trolley passed by, Harry once again paid for their goods, this time limiting himself to a large stack of Pumpkin Pasties and a couple dozen Chocolate Frogs.

Harry read out the first card he got from the Chocolate Frogs.

“ _ Linfred the Potterer, Twelfth Century Potioneer. Created the Skele-Gro and Pepper-Up Potions. _ ” 

“Potterer? Any relation to you, Harry?” Luna asked.

“As a matter of fact, he was the founder of the Potter Family. My grandfather Fleamont created Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion.”

“No wonder Snape hates you, your family’s been making potions for centuries!” Ron noted.

“So he’s a jealous git. Sounds reasonable.”

Of course, the moment had to be ruined by a certain blonde in green, flanked by his two gorilla bodyguards.

“Well, Potter, looks like you’ve got yourself a menagerie. Blood traitors, mudbloods, and freaks, a full lot.” Draco Malfoy sneered. Harry, Danny, and Ron all shot up.

If looks could kill, Draco and his pet boulders would be dead thrice-over.

“And of course, you can’t go anywhere without your bodyguards, ponce.” Ron sneered.

“At least I don’t have to buy anything second or even  _ fourth _ hand.” Draco sneered back. Neville stood up.

“Why don’t you leave us alone, Malfoy.” the round-faced boy said defiantly.

“Careful Longbottom, unless you want to join your parents-”

_ CRUNCH! _

Draco staggered back, clutching his nose, which was bleeding freely. The knuckles of Neville’s outstretched fist were red, and it wasn’t his blood. 

“You just crossed a line, Malfoy, now leave, or a broken nose will be the least of your worries.” Harry glared, and, feeling just a bit malicious, exercised his Metamorphmagus ability. His glare came from eyes slitted like a snake’s, and a forked tongue flicked out. Malfoy and his goons fled screaming. 

“Nice one, Neville.” Ron clapped him on the back. “And what did you do to Malfoy, Harry?”

Harry showed him the trick he used.

“You’re a Metamorphmagus.” Luna noted plainly. “That was very brave, Neville, I don’t think I could have done the same.”

“He crossed a line.” Neville said as he sat back down and focused on keeping Trevor from escaping again,with little success.

Before the toad could escape the compartment, he found himself levitating, courtesy of Hermione. 

“ _ Incarcifors. _ ” Danny cast on a stack of Chocolate Frog boxes, turning the discarded cardboard into a box with airholes around Trevor. 

“That should hold him until we get to Hogwarts.” Danny informed Neville, gesturing to the box.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

As day turned to twilight, the septet changed into their Hogwarts robes. Ginny and Luna had the plain black robes of unsorted students, while the second years had some form of red and gold to signify their House. Hermione’s had red trim with gold buttons, as did Harry and Danny. Ron’s boasted a red and gold striped belt. Neville had the trim and a Gryffindor sigil over his left breast.

Once they reached the station, Ginny and Luna went with the rest of the first years, while everyone else got to take the carriages. 

Harry, Danny, and Neville all stopped dead when they reached the supposedly horseless carriages. The open-top carriages were made of black wood with headlamps fastened to the front providing light. But what caught the three’s eyes were what was in front of the carriages.

Pulling the carriages were what could only be horses. These horses, however, had a certain reptilian quality about them. They had no discernible fur except for a mane of thin hair down their necks and making up their tails. The was no substantial flesh, their black coats clinging directly to their skeletons, highlighting every bone. Their skull-like heads were draconic in appearance, with staring, pupil-less white eyes. Vast black leathery wings sprouted from their backs, folded to their sides. Standing deathly still in the quiet gloom, the creatures looked rather eerie and sinister. It took a moment, but Danny remembered creatures that matched this description.

“ _ Thestrals _ ,” he breathed quietly.

“What are you three staring at?” Hermione’s voice cut through the eerie silence. 

“The carriages are pulled by Thestrals.” Danny stated. Hermione followed his gaze, along with Ron.

“There’s nothing there.”

“Of course not, they’re invisible unless you’ve seen death.”

“Well, on  _ that _ cheery note, let’s get in.” Ron said, looking more than a little wary. The redhead made sure to sit at the back of the carriage. 

“What are Thestrals?” Hermione asked, once again annoyed at not knowing everything.

“They look like undead winged horses, and are invisible unless you’ve seen death. Some people,” Danny shot a glance at Ron. “Consider them a bad omen.”

“Oh, so-”

“Consider yourself lucky you can’t see them.”

The Great Hall was a great deal emptier than it was last year. Last year had a large graduating class, leaving the consecutively smaller years. There was no greater measure of Voldemort’s Blood War than the class sizes at Hogwarts. There were only forty-one second years, when the usual class size was meant to be closer to a hundred. This year’s group of first years was even smaller. It had only been Voldemort’s untimely defeat at Godric’s Hollow that prevented his victory. 

Professor McGonagall led in the new first years, and brought out the Sorting Hat and Stool. The Hat sang a new song, which was likely composed over the last year. Clearly none of the Founders thought to put any musical talent into the Hat when they enchanted it. When the song was done, McGonagall called the first name.

“Appleby, Roger” A brown-haired boy was quickly sorted into Slytherin.

The next two were sorted into Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. The fourth name called, however, drew the attention of everyone who had been raised by wizards.

“Black, Leonis” A boy with black hair, gray eyes, and sharp features sat on the stool. The Hat was on his head for nearly a minute before bellowing out. “GRYFFINDOR!”

The Slytherin table was in shock while the Gryffindor table clapped loudly, almost missing the next sorting of “Creevey, Colin”, who also joined Gryffindor, sitting next to Harry. The mousy-haired boy looked more wide-eyed at the grandeur of the castle than anyone else. 

Luna took the longest to Sort, but eventually sat next to Jazz at the Ravenclaw table.

Ginny was the last of the class to be Sorted, and was almost immediately Sorted into Gryffindor. She joined her brothers at the table as McGonagall took the Hat and stool away as Dumbledore stood up.

“Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Now, before we begin our equiset banquet, I have a few words to say, and here they are. Nimrod! Liver! Vorpal! Vex! Thank you.” 

As they dug in, they talked about their summers, and the first years eventually talked about their families, and for the muggleborns, their exposure to magic. Upon hearing Harry’s name, Colin perked up. 

“You’re Harry Potter, aren’t you?”

Harry reluctantly lifted his bangs enough to show the still-red scar. No matter what he did with his Metamorphmagus abilities to change his face, he could not remove the reminder of Voldemort’s attack. 

“Cool! I’ve read all about you.”

“Let me guess, in  _ Modern Magical History _ and  _ The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts _ , right?”

“Yeah! All about how You-Know-Who tried to kill you, but you survived, he disappeared, and then you went to some family in America, and you still have the scar.” Ginny was nodding eagerly at his description of the events covered by the book. “This place is  _ amazing _ ! I didn’t even know the weird stuff I was doing was magic until I got my Hogwarts letter and Professor McGonagall explained everything.”

“Did she explain how those books aren’t entirely accurate?” Harry asked.

“They aren’t?”

“The truth is that my birth mother died to protect me, which caused Voldemort’s curse to backfire in his face.” Ginny flinched, as did most of the table within earshot. 

“Who?” Colin asked, looking around confused.

“Voldemort,” another round of flinching. “You-Know-Who was what people called him because they were too scared to say his name.”

“Even though Voldemort is clearly an alias. I mean, who names their kid ‘Flight from death’?”

“What?”

“It’s like Darth Vader, he wasn’t born with that name, he came up with it when he went evil.”

The muggleborns and muggle-raised nodded in understanding.

“So, what’s your story?” Danny asked Leonis, who was looking like he was trying to fade into the background.

“My mum raised me, never knew my dad. Mum said he disappeared before I was born.”

“And when was this?”

“1980.”

Danny filed that information away for later.

What few people knew was that the prestige of the House of Black was built on a foundation of Astronomy. Over the generations, children were named after stars and constellations to remember these early achievements, a meaning that was largely lost on most of the wizarding populus as the family become more embroided in the Dark Arts. 

Leonis was the name designating the stars of the constellation Leo, the Lion. The most well known star from that constellation was Regulus, the Lion’s Heart, and also the name of one of the only two male Blacks of the main line in the last generation.

~~AWS~~

Once the feast concluded and Dumbledore made his announcements, the students made their way up to their House common rooms. Harry was pulled aside by a prefect.

“The Headmaster asked for you to come up to his office. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape were with him.” The prefect said. 

It was only the control of his reactions that prevented him from audibly gulping. 

The prefect led him to a corridor on the second floor, where a stone gargoyle stood in front of a blank patch of wall.

“Sherbert lemon.” intoned the prefect. The gargoyle leapt to the side at the wall behind it split in two. Behind the wall, a spiral staircase was rising upward like an escalator. The prefect motioned for him to go up, and he did so. The prefect remained behind. At the top of the frankly ridiculous number of stairs, a door of gleaming oak stood, a brass knocker the shape of a griffin at head height.

The door opened at Harry’s first knock.

The Headmaster’s office had a decor befitting its owner. Two-story bookshelfs were filled with books, and what space wasn’t filled with leather-bound tomes was filled with baubles of silver, copper, and glass. Intricate silver devices sat on spindly tables, some spinning while others contained or gave off smoke. The walls were primary covered by numerous portraits framed in gold, the wizards and witches depicted in them for the most part sleeping. On one wall, behind the Headmaster’s desk, a couple of house elves were straightening what looked to be a new portrait, featuring a man with a thick, collar-length beard and long white hair, clad in regal-looking blue and gold robes. This portrait was awake, and seemed to be grumbling to the house elves to make sure his portrait was level. On one shelf sat the Sorting Hat, looking like it was as asleep as the portraits, while a brilliant red and gold bird sat on its perch, head tucked under its wing. At an ancient oak desk sat Professor Dumbledore in a throne-like chair, flanked by Professor’s McGonagall and Snape.

“You… wanted to see me, Professor?” Harry asked tentatively. 

“Indeed, Mr Potter. Please, have a seat.” Dumbledore gestured to the squat chair that sat in front of his desk. Harry did as he was asked.

He was acutely aware of the accusatory glare directed at him from Professor Snape. 

“How was your summer, Mr Potter?” the Headmaster asked in a kindly voice.

“It was nice. I learned a bit more about my abilities. How was yours?” Harry replied.

“Rather busy, but a nice respite nonetheless from the rigors of running a school full of teenagers.”

“That’s good.”

“Enough with the pleasantries.” Snape snapped. “I have more important matters to be about than to listen to Potter flaunt his ability to avoid barbershops.”

Dumbledore sent the Potions Master a look of disapproval that went ignored.

“Yes well, Harry, we are hear to talk about the incident on the Express today.”

“I didn’t break Malfoy’s nose, Neville did.” Mcgonagall looked caught between being shocked and impressed.

“I doubt Longbottom could break a piece of straw.”

“Malfoy said something about his parents. In fact, it was the same thing he threw at me on the train before first year.”

“And that was?” Dumbledore asked.

“That I would end up like them.” 

McGonagall looked apoplectic. 

“Well, that is certainly good enough reason to break another’s nose.” 

“Why? What happened to Neville’s parents?”

“That is a story that should only be told when Mr Longbottom is ready to share it.” McGonagall told him. “But if your curiosity cannot be sated, there a backlots of the Daily Prophet in the library. 

“Mr Malfoy said that you broke his nose and threatened him.” Snape glared.

“I intimidated him. I thought a Slytherin would know the difference between a threat and a bluff. I guess Poker isn’t popular among your House.” Harry said, the last part directed at Snape.

“We do not condone gambling here at Hogwarts.” The Headmaster said calmly.

“How did you  _ intimidate _ Mr Malfoy?” McGonagall asked, slightly intrigued.

“Tonks showed me how to give myself animal features. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s so scared of his own House animal.” Harry noticed the looks he was getting. “Should I also mention that he insulted every person in our compartment? He called Hermione a  _ Mudblood _ ,” Harry spat out the word like it was a particularly vile Every-Flavor Bean, “and the rest of us  _ Blood Traitors  _ and  _ freaks. _ ” 

McGonagall was now glaring daggers at Snape, who only now looked uncomfortable.

“I will speak to Mr Malfoy.” Snape said, turning to leave, his cloak billowing as it always did.

“How does he get his cloak to billow like that?” Harry asked.

“Ah, that is one of the great mysteries of life.” Dumbledore said, an undertone of amusement in his voice. Harry turned back around. “I see there is something else on your mind.” Dumbledore noted, peering over his half-moon-spectacles.

“On my birthday, a house elf showed up in my room. He was trying to get me to not come to Hogwarts this year.”

“Oh?”

“He said there was plot against the school, but he couldn’t say who was behind it, only that its a follower of Voldemort.”

Dumbledore looked concerned, but gestured for him to go on.

“And then Danny showed him that green fire trick, and he bowed to him.”

“Bowed?”

“He called Danny ‘the Great One’ and then just left.” Harry finished.

One of the Headmaster’s bushy eyebrows had risen. 

“Well Harry, I thank you for informing me of this. I would say the best you can do about this is, in the words of an old friend, ‘keep constant vigilance’. Now, your friends are most likely wondering where you are, and Filch has been in a particularly foul mood since I had him put on probation.”

“Oh, and Mr Potter,” McGonagall called out, “the password is ‘wattlebird’.”

Harry left the office and, feeling cautious, shifted his features to be almost non-descript. Harry got to the Gryffindor corridor unaccosted, and shifted back to his natural black hair and green eyes.

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked, a note of disdain in her voice.

“Wattlebird.” The portrait swung open, and Harry slipped upstairs to the second year boys dormitory, which was in the same place as last year. 

Harry noticed that his and his roommates trunks had already been brought up as he slipped out of his school robes and into his indigo pajamas. 

That night, Harry’s dreams were of a long tunnel, lined with torches shaped like winding snakes, and a large, circular door.


	15. Pixies and Slugs

_ September 2, 1992 _ .

The first morning of the term saw Neville in a good mood for once. Danny didn’t know what it was, but something his grandmother had said in her letter to Neville had put a spring in his step.

The first class of the day was double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs. The quintet of Gryffindors made their way out of the castle, across the vegetable patch, and to the greenhouses, where all manner of magical plants were kept, from Bouncing Bulbs to Venomous Tentacula. 

Professor Sprout arrived shortly after the class had gathered outside the greenhouses. Professor Sprout was a squat little witch whose flyaway gray hair was kept under a patched pointed hat, possibly more patched-up than the Sorting Hat was. There was usually a large amount of earth on her robes with hands that were clearly used to working in dirt and mud.

“Greenhouse three today, chaps!” the Herbology Professor said in her usual cheery voice. A murmur of interest ran through the class, who had only previously worked in greenhouse one. She led the class to the significantly more interesting greenhouse, and unlocked the door with a large key from her belt. The first thing that hit the class was the earthy smell of dirt and fertilizer, mixed with a heavy perfume from the giant, umbrella-sized flowers that dangled from the ceiling. 

Professor Sprout took her place at the center of the room behind a trestle bench, upon which sat twenty one pairs of different-colored earmuffs. Once the entire class had taken their places, she began her instruction.

“We’ll be repotting Mandrakes today. Now who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?

Hermione’s hand naturally shot up, but to everyone’s surprise, Neville had gotten his up first.

“Mandrake, or the Mandragora plant, is a restorative,” said Neville confidently. “Mandrake is used to undo transfigurations and some curses.”

“Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor,” said Professor Sprout. Hermione was surprised, but managed to get the next question.

“The Mandrake forms and essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?”

“The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it,” Hermione stated, her hand having just missed Harry’s glasses on the way up.

“Precisely. Take another ten points for Gryffindor. Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still young.” Professor Sprout pointed to a row of deep trays, causing everyone to shuffle forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little purplish green plants with thick stems were growing there in the rows. They really looked quite unremarkable, but with magic, sometimes the most innocuous things were the deadliest.

Danny hoped the Mandrake’s cry wasn’t set off by something like just touching them.

“Everyone take a pair of earmuffs,” Professor Sprout instructed.

It was a mad scramble to get a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy. The pair Danny got were a bright neon green that reminded him of some of his parents inventions. 

“When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are  _ completely _ covered, unless you would like to wake up in the hospital wing.” Professor Sprout went on. “When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs up. Right - earmuffs  _ on _ .”

Earmuffs were quickly snapped securely around their wearers ears, blocking out all sound. Once all the students had theirs on, Professor Sprout snapped a pink and fluffy pair over her own ears before rolling up her sleeves, firmly grasping one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard.

The gasps made by several students went unheard.

Instead of a normal root system, the Mandrake’s roots formed a shape like a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby that popped out of the earth. The leaves formed what would have been hair. The Mandrake’s skin was pale green and mottled, and it was bawling at the top of its lungs. 

With her free hand, Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from underneath the table and plunged the screaming Mandrake into it, reburying it in the dark, damp compost until only its leaves were left visible, and the cries theoretically muted. The Mandrake repotted, Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all a thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs. The class followed her lead.

“As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won’t kill yet,” she said calmly, as though she hadn’t just handled a plant that could easily incapacitate or kill. “However, they  _ will _ knock you out for several hours, and as I’m sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack things up.

“Four to a tray - we have quite a large supply of pots here - compost in the sacks over there - and do be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it’s teething.”

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dangerously dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long, thorn-studded feelers that had been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

The Quintet was split, Ron and Neville taking one tray with a pair of Hufflepuffs, while Harry, Danny, and Hermione were joined at their tray by Hufflepuff girl, her auburn hair tied back in a plait. They had seen her around, but hadn’t actually spoken to her.

“Susan Bones,” she said brightly, shaking Harry by the hand. “Everyone knows who you are, course, Harry Potter. And you’re Hermione Granger - top of the class in practically everything.” Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too. “And Danny Fenton, your parents make all those defense charms, right? My aunt says there have been fewer incidents with spirits since they started selling those.”

“Your aunt?” Danny asked.

“Amelia Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

“Of course, I thought your name was familiar.” 

As they started filling the pots with compost, the subject changed to their latest professor.

“That Lockhart’s something, isn’t he?” Susan said, Hermione nodded. “I mean, facing all those monsters in his books? I’m not sure I could have kept my nerve if I was being chased by a werewolf, but he just pinned it down and - _ zap _ \- just fantastic.

“Of course, my aunt is kind of sceptical, but he’s just so  _ dreamy _ .” Of course, their conversation was cut off by the earmuffs going back on and everyone focusing on the Mandrakes, which were quite unruly once out of the earth. Harry spend ten whole minutes trying to squash a larger specimen into a pot, while every single one Danny picked up tried to make a break for it, and had to be manhandled into their pots, with more than a couple bitten fingers.

Thank Merlin for Dragonhide gloves.

By the end of the class, everyone was covered in the lovely combination of sweat and copious amounts of dirt, while their arms and backs ached from the task. Everyone traipsed back to the castle to wash off before their next class, Transfiguration, once again with the Hufflepuffs.

Transfiguration was always hard work, but today’s lesson was especially difficult, as little first year knowledge beyond the basics had been retained. Harry could easily transfigure himself, thanks to his Metamorphmagus abilities, but transfiguring a moving target was far more difficult. Even Danny, who had nearly tied with Hermione last year, was having difficulty.

Turning beetles into buttons while the beetles scurried around was quickly becoming a herculean task. Eventually, Harry became fed up with the beetle running about every time he tried to transfigure it, and hit with with an  _ Immobulus _ . While Professor McGonagall gave him an indecipherable look, he was able to transfigure the now frozen insect into a usable, if rather plain, coat button. 

Ron had managed to get rid of his beetle’s legs, but it ended up looking more like a flat, legless beetle rather than an actual button.

By the time the lunch bell rang, more than one person’s brain felt like a wrung sponge as they filed down to the Great Hall, where the sky was still a dull gray. 

At lunch, Hermione showed them a handful of perfect coat buttons, which Danny responded to by showing off the rather large and intricate button he had produced.

“What’ve we got this afternoon?” Harry asked, hoping to end the one-up-manship contest being held between Danny and Hermione.

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” said Hermione succinctly.

Ron seized her schedule.

“ _ Why _ ,” he demanded, “have you outlined all Lockhart’s lessons in little hearts?”

Hermione was blushing furiously as she took back her schedule. 

When they had finished lunch, they found themselves with a quarter of an hour before they would have to deal with Lockhart, which they spent in the overcast courtyard, where they were accosted by Colin, who wanted a photo with Harry. Danny took the photo, but when Colin asked for Harry to sign it, a familiar voice that was loathed by the second years butt in.

“ _ Signed photos? _ ” The unpleasant voice of Malfoy echoed around the courtyard. “You’re giving out  _ signed photos _ , Potter?”

Malfoy was flanked by his two thuggish bodyguards, and sadly, the damage done to his face by Neville had been healed completely. His nose wasn’t even crooked. 

“Everyone line up!” Malfoy roared to the crowd. “Harry Potter’s giving out signed photos.”

“No, I’m not,” said Harry, his voice almost a growl as he clenched his fists. “Shut up Malfoy, or do you want a repeat of the train?”

“You’re just jealous,” piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe’s almost non-existent neck.

“ _ Jealous? _ ” scoffed Malfoy, who no longer had to shout anymore, considering the entire courtyard was listening to the exchange. “Of what? I don’t want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don’t think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself.”

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly, while Harry smirked, the perfect comeback on his lips.

“Oh, so you’re father  _ enjoyed  _ being under the  _ Imperius _ Curse?” That wiped the grins off the Slytherin trio. “Because that’s what the scar represents. It represents Voldemort getting blasted to smithereens by his own curse, ending his threat and  _ freeing _ everyone he had controlled.”

“Let’s leave the Peanut Gallery to ponder. We don’t want to be late for Defense.” Harry turned, followed by Danny, Ron, Neville, and Hermione. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was, in two words, a disaster. The pop quiz he assigned was little more than an ego trip and test of how well Lockhart’s books had been memorized. Fifty-four questions, all of them relating to Lockhart and not a single one of them relating to the actual class.

“Tut, tut - hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in  _ Year with the Yeti _ .” Danny had written down forget-me-not blue, since it seemed to be most of his wardrobe. “And a few of you need to read  _ Wanderings with Werewolves _ more carefully - clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic peoples - though I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhiskey!” Danny quickly made a mental note to ask his parents for a Fenton Magic-Friendly Recorder (patent pending), to put in the same room as Lockhart with the bottle of Firewhiskey. By this point, almost every male in the class was barely containing their laughter and disbelief.

“... but Miss Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions - good girl!”

“Great Uncle Fleamont already cornered the market on that.” Danny whispered to Harry.

“In fact,” Lockhart flipped her paper over, “full marks! Where is Miss Hermione Granger?”

Hermione raised a trembling hand, only it wasn’t from fear.

“Excellent!” beamed Lockhart. “Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so - to business -”

Lockhart bent down and retrieved what looked like a covered birdcage from under the desk, dropping in on the table with a loud  _ thunk _ .

“Now - be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm.”

Lockhart placed a hand over the cage.

Danny drew his wand.

“I must ask you not to scream,” Lockhart said in a low, warning voice. “It might… PROVOKE THEM!” Lockhart whipped the cover off the cage.

Seamus gave a loud snort of laughter that not even Lockhart could ignore.

“Yes?” He smiled at Seamus.

“Well, they’re not - they’re not very -  _ dangerous _ , are they?” Seamus choked out.

“Don’t be so sure!” boasted Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. “Devilish tricky little blighters they can be”

“Maybe if your name’s Dymphna Furmage.” One of the students whispered next to Danny. 

The pixies were eight inches high and a bright, electric blue, impish faces jabbering incessantly as they rattled the bars of the cage.

“Right, then,” Lockhart continued in a loud voice, trying to talk over the pixies. “Let’s see what you make of them now!”

He opened the cage, and all hell broke loose. The pixies shot every which way like fireworks, with similar damage. A pair of them dragged Neville into the air and hooked the back of his robe to the iron chandelier in the room. The back window was shattered by a pack of them, showering the back of the class with broken glass. Waste baskets were upended, the portraits of Lockhart that decorated the walls were ducking out of their frames for cover. Bags and books were being thrown out of the shattered window while ink bottles were broken open and splattered over everyone. Within minutes most of the class was cowering under the desks. 

“Com on now - round them up, round them up, they’re only pixies,” Lockhart shouted over the chaos. 

He rolled up his sleeves and and brandished his wand bellowing: “ _ Peskipiksi Pestrernomi! _ ”

The spell had no effect, and Lockhart’s wand quickly went sailing out another broken window. Lockhart gulped and dived under his own desk.

“ _ Wingardium Leviosa!” _ Danny shouted, catching Neville and the iron chandelier before they hit the floor. 

The bell rang, setting off a mad dash towards the exit. In the relative calm that followed, Lockhart straightened up, catching sight of the quintet, who had almost reached the door.

“Well, I’ll ask you five to just nip the rest of them back into their cage.” He swept past them and shut the door quickly behind him.

“Okay,  _ enough _ !” Danny roared, leaping onto a desk, his eyes green with fire. Throwing out his arms, a  _ wave _ of rolling green fire swept across the room, knocking every single pixie out of the air. He then stalked to the cage and grabbed an empty vial. 

“ _ Tergeo! _ ” He slashed his wand and drew out the dust that had collected at the bottom of the cage, siphoning it into the vial.

“If we’re going to be late for Potions, we should at least have  _ something _ to show for it.

The quintet were, of course, late for Potions, with Snape being in his usual foul mood. 

“Five points from Gryffindor for tardiness.”

“Lockhart had us clean up the mess he made with his  _ pixies _ .” Danny growled, placing the vial on the desk.

“Pixie dust, courtesy of Lockhart’s ineptitude.” Danny said as he made his way to his seat, where he quickly got started on copying the notes on the board.

 

_ September 3, 1992 _

Danny was thankful to have first period on Thursday free, since went to bed Wednesday night feeling like death warmed over, and the awful feeling persisted through the morning. It had taken until lunch for his body to stop feeling like it was on fire, and he was up for double potions, where the time spent brewing a sleeping draught helped him forget about the pain and contemplate ways to humiliate Lockhart.

 

_ September 4, 1992 _

Friday nights were Astronomy, Danny’s favorite subject. Second year Astronomy focused on the planets and Earth’s moon. Their first assignment was to put together a moon chart and catalogue the phases of the moon over a whole month, which they would do for every month of the year. 

 

_ September 5, 1992 _

Oliver Wood held Quidditch tryouts that first Saturday, and Danny had to get up at the crack of dawn to be there in time. As the only one who applied for the position, Danny was made Reserve Seeker, while a burly, obnoxious third year named Cormac McLaggen was made Reserve for every other position. 

Danny seriously hoped it would never become necessary. 

Of course, the Gryffindor team’s training was interrupted by the Slytherin team, garbed in green and all carrying identical broomsticks.

Danny’s eyes bugged out when he saw that Draco Malfoy of all people had become Seeker. It did explain why the Slytherin team all had the same variety of broomstick.

“What’s happening?” Ron asked as the trio of Danny, Ron, and Hermione crossed the grass to the teams’ stare-off. “Why aren’t you playing? And what’s  _ he _ doing here?” The last question was directed at Malfoy.

“I’m the new Slytherin Seeker, Weasley,” said Malfoy with his usual smugness. “Everyone’s just been admiring the brooms my father’s bought our team.”

“Good, aren’t they?” Malfoy boasted at Ron’s gaping. “But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them.”

The Slytherin team howled with laughter, while Danny leveled one of his near-legendary glares at them.

“At least no one on the Gryffindor team had to  _ buy _ their way in,” Hermione cut in sharply. “ _ They _ got in on pure talent.”

Malfoy’s smugness wavered.

“No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood,” he spat. 

That was the wrong thing to say in front of the Gryffindor team. Flint had to jump in front of Malfoy to block Fred and George, which didn’t help one bit when Danny threw the Slytherin Captain aside with a wave of his hand.

Alicia Spinnet, one of the Chasers, shrieked. “ _ How dare you! _ ” Ron whipped out his wand, and yelled at the Seeker in green. “You’ll pay for that one, Malfoy! Eat Slugs!”

A jet of vomit green struck Malfoy square in the gut, just a second before Danny’s fist struck him in the face, breaking his nose for the second time that week.

Malfoy toppled to the ground, his face looking like Christmas between the blood from his nose and the green his cheeks had turned. When Malfoy opened his mouth, no words came out, only glistening slugs that flopped onto the grass.

“You might want to take him back to Madam Pomphrey, Flint.” Danny scowled.

The Slytherin team left, carrying Malfoy between the two beaters and leaving a trail of large, glistening slugs up to the castle. 

“You know, I thought Snape said he would have a word with Malfoy after I told him about what happened on the train.” Harry noted.

“Well, that should at least shut him up for the rest of the day.” Ron commented.

“That wasn’t a real incantation.” Hermione criticised.

“I know, the words are  _ Slugus Erecto _ .” Ron replied.

“Casting spells wordlessly is NEWT-Level.” Hermione noted. “That was impressive.”

“My brother Bill taught me that hex, he taught Ginny the Bat-Bogey one.”

The two conversed as they made their way to Hagrid’s Hut, leaving the Gryffindor team to their practice. Dany jokingly promising to bring Harry back some rock cakes. The trio narrowly avoided Lockhart, who was clearly getting on Hagrid’s nerves.

“It’s a simple matter if you know what you’re doing!” Lockhart shouted, apparently ignorant that Hagrid was intentionally not listening. “If you need help, you know where I am! I’ll let you have a copy of my book. I’m surprised you haven’t already got one - I’ll sign one tonight and send it over. Well, good-bye!” and he strode away toward the castle.

Both Ron and Danny hoped he would slip in Malfoy’s slug-trail on the way there.

When Lockhart was well out of sight, they knocked on Hagrid’s front door. Hagrid appeared at once, looking quite grumpy, before looking down. His expression brightened immediately once he realized who was visiting. 

“Bin wonderin’ when you’d come ter see me - come in, come in -thought you you mighta bin Professor Lockhart back again -”

The trio crossed the threshold into the one-room cabin, notable for its oversized furniture befitting its owner.

“So, where’s Harry?” Hagrid asked, noting the absence of one of their group. 

“Quidditch practice. I made Reserve Seeker.” Danny told him.

“Congratulations.” Hagrid smiled as he bustled about preparing some tea.

“So what did Lockhart want with you, Hagrid?” Danny asked. Fang had perched his head on Danny’s lap, and he was currently scratching behind his ears. 

“Givin’ me advice on gettin’ kelpies outta a well,” growled the Gamekeeper, moving a half-plucked rooster off his scrubbed table and setting down the teapot while putting the kettle on to boil. “Like I don’ know. An’ bangin’ on about some banshee he banished. If one word of it were true, I’ll eat my kettle.”

It was a sure sign that Lockhart was no good if even Hagrid was criticizing him. Ron and Danny looked at him in surprise, while Hermione spoke in a higher voice than usual. “I think you’re being a bit unfair. Professor Dumbledore obviously thought he was the best man for the job -”

“He wa the  _ on’y _ man fer the job,” said Hagrid, offering them a plate of treacle fudge. It was surprisingly edible. “An’ I mean the  _ on’y _ one. Gettin’ very difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. People aren’t too keen ter take it on, see. They’re startin’ to think it’s jinxed. No one’s lasted long fer a while now. So tell me,” Said Hagrid, looking at Ron, “Why’re ya lookin’ so smug?”

“Malfoy is currently in the hospital wing with a bad case of slug vomit and a re-broken nose. Ron did the spellwork.” Danny explained.

“What were ye tryin’ to curse ‘im for?” 

He insulted Hermione, and if Ron didn’t get him, the Twins would have.

“It was bad, he called her a ‘Mudblood’, Hagrid, someone had to put Malfoy in his place.”

Hagrid looked outraged.

“He didn’!” he growled at Hermione. 

“He did,” she said, “But I don’t know what it means. I could tell it was really rude, of course, he did use on the train, though, and everyone jumped up-”

“It’s about the most insulting thing he could think of,” said Danny. “It’s a really foul name for muggle-born witches and wizards. People like the Malfoy’s and their ilk think that just because their family tree has nothing but magicals on it, they can treat everyone who doesn’t like dirt. Those are the PBB’s.”

“PBB’s?” Ron asked.

“Pure-Blood Bastards.”

“Language!” Hermione admonished.

“Doesn’t change the meaning. Besides, when it comes down to it, blood means nothing when it comes to talent. Look at Neville. As far as wizards go, he’s on the lower end of average, and he’s a pure-blood.”

“An’ they haven’t invented a spell our Hermione can’ do,” said Hagrid proudly. Hermione went a brilliant shade of magenta.

“It’s a disgusting thing to call someone,” said Ron. “Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s ridiculous. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

“Not to mention, there hasn’t been a single pure-blood Metamorphmagus in history. Both Harry and Tonks have a muggle-born parent. And, just between us, I don’t think muggle-borns really have no magical ancestry.”

“What do you mean?”

“My dad’s family can trace their way all the way to the Salem Witch Hunts, to a Scourer named John Fenton-Nightingale. Scourers were witches and wizards hired as mercenaries, who went mad with power and turned on both wizards and no-majes. All those no-majes killed in the Witch Hunts? Those were people the Scourers had grudges with. Then MACUSA was founded and the Scourers went into exile, where they breed the magic out of their bloodlines until only the knowledge of magic’s existence remained. So, the thing is, both my dad and Aunt Lily were born to this family, past the point where knowledge of magic’s existence had faded, and they are and were highly skilled when it came to magic.”

“Well, I don’ blame yeh fer cursin’ Malfoy,” said Hagrid to Ron. “Bu’ yer probably goin’ to inter trouble fer it. Lucius Malfoy won’ take that lyin’ down.”

“From what Harry said, I don’t think Malfoy’s on good terms with Snape.” Danny said. “And even if Malfoy does kick up a fuss, Dumbledore will probably protest anything too harsh.”

“He prob’ly would. Great man, Dumbledore, let me stay here when I got, well, you know what happened-”

“We really don’t.” Was the reply.

“A Prefect named Riddle got me expelled in my third year, Dumbledore was the only one who defended me, but it was Riddle’s word against mine, and Professor Dippet trusted the Slytherin Prefect more, course, he wound up droppin’ off the face of the Earth a couple years after he graduated. If ye ask me, he was nothin’ but trouble. He always had this look in ‘is eye, like everyone was beneath ‘im.”

Danny noticed that he was likely getting to the point of going tight-lipped, and decided to change the subject.

“Say, Hagrid, there wouldn’t happen to be any Mackled Malaclaws on the grounds, would there?”

“O’ course there are, down by the lake. Gotta be careful though not to get bitten, ‘less ye want to be unlucky for the next coupl’a days.”

“Thank you, that was all I needed to know.”

Afterwards, Hagrid showed him the field of pumpkins he was growing for the Halloween feast at the end of next month. Each pumpkin was relative in size to a large boulder, and more than one of them suspected an Engorgement Charm. With the way Hagrid brandished his pink umbrella, Danny would not be surprised if he was using it to cast magic.  _ Technically _ , he was only forbidden to carry a wand.

The rules said nothing of using umbrellas as a focus.

“Well, you’ve done a good job on them.” Hermione complemented.

“That’s what yer little sister said,” Hagrid nodded at Ron. “Met her jus’ yesterday. Her an those two boys, Creevey an’ Black. Now, I remember when Sirius Black was a student, never could’a seen what ‘appened with ‘im.”

“What happened?” Hermione asked.

“Went an’ betrayed his best friends, he did!” Hagrid roared. “An’ to think, he gave me his own motorcycle to get Harry to safety.”

“Betrayed?”

“When You-Know-Who started goin’ after the Potters, James an’ Lily went into hiding. Used a clever piece o’ magic called a Fidelius Charm to hide themselves, they made Black the secret keeper, and he turned around an’ told You-Know-Who where to find them. Then, he got confronted by the Potter’s other friend, Peter Pettigrew. Black went an’ blasted poor Pettigrew an’ twelve muggles to smithereens. The Aurors caught him on the edge o’ the crater, laughin’ mad. Ol’ Crouch tossed ‘im inter Azkaban wit’out a second thought.”

After that cheerful conversation, the trio headed back to the castle, Danny making sure to bring back some treacle fudge for Harry.


	16. Ghosts of the Past

_ October 31, 1992 _

Danny and Ron’s retaliation against Malfoy did not go unpunished, and the two had spent the week after that first Saturday in detention with Filch, polishing the various awards that filled the Trophy Room. Danny had been surprised that some of the awards were still stained with residue from Danny’s prank of making a mess and implicating Malfoy after he had challenged Harry to a Wizard’s Duel with the intent to get his cousin into trouble. Instead, Malfoy had spent a week in detention because it was his wand that was found at the scene of the mess. 

Now, it was Halloween, and the quartet of Harry, Danny, Ron, and Hermione were headed to the dungeons to attend Nearly-Headless Nick’s five-hundredth deathday. Harry had promised to be there to pay back Sir Nicholas for getting him out of detention with Filch for tracking mud in from Quidditch practice. Harry had managed to rope most of his friends into going with him. Neville had chosen to attend the Halloween feast, where it was rumored that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment. 

The dungeons had been dreary as ever, now decorated with thin, jet black candles that burned blue, at least until Danny passed by them, at which point the flickering flames turned green, like Floo Powder had just been thrown in. 

The already cold dungeons were even more so, most likely due to the large concentrations of ghosts Nick had invited. The one not huddling in their robes was Danny, who seemed unbothered by the drop in temperature.

As they neared the dungeon where the party was taking place, a sound like fingernails on a chalkboard reached their ears, causing all mortals listening to it to wince. 

“Is that supposed to be  _ music _ ?” ron whispered. They turned a corner and saw Sir Nicholas standing at a doorway hung with black velvet drapes.

“My dear friends,” he said mournfully. “Welcome, welcome… so pleased you could come….” He stopped at Danny.

“Oh, even better than I could have hoped!” he cried. “Tell me, would it happen to be your birthday today?”

“Y-yes, I turned thirteen today. Why?”

“Thirteen? Drat,” Nick snapped in a whisper. “Well, can’t be helped, it’s the thought that counts, I suppose.”

He swept off his plumed hat and bowed them inside.

It was an impressive sight. The dungeon Nick had chosen had the approximate dimensions of a ballroom, which was filled with hundreds of pearly white, translucent people, mostly drifting around a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dreadful sound of thirty musical saws being played by an orchestra of translucent, well-dressed performers, playing from a raised platform draped in more black velvet. A thousand more black candles sat on a massive chandelier hanging overhead. The quartet’s breath came out as mist, as they felt like they had just stepped into a meatlocker.

Of course, once Danny crossed the threshold, everything changed. 

Like in the corridor, the blue flames of the candles glowed green, and every ghostly head turned to look at him. 

“Okay, this is awkward.” Danny whispered to his companions. “Umm… go back to what you were doing before?”

Thankfully, the ghosts obliged. On the bright side, the light from the green fire was slightly  _ less _ dread-inducing than the previous blue.

“Shall we have a look around?” Harry suggested, breaking the ice while hoping his feet would warm up by moving.

“Careful not to walk through anyone,” said Ron nervously as they set off around the edge of the dance floor. They passed a group of gloomy-looking nuns, a ragged man wearing chains who looked like almost every visual depiction of Jacob Marley, and the Fat Friar, the cheerful Hufflepuff House ghost, who was chatting with a knight who had an arrow pierced through his forehead. To no one’s surprise, the other ghosts were giving a wide berth to the Bloody Baron, who was there in all his gaunt, silvery bloodstained glory.

“Oh, no,” said Hermione, stopping abruptly. “Turn back, turn back, I don’t want to talk to Moaning Myrtle -”

“Who?” Harry asked as they backpedaled.

“She haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathroom on the ground floor,” Hermione explained.

“She haunts a  _ toilet _ ?” Ron exasperated.

“Yes, It’s been out of order all year because she keeps having tantrums and flooding the place, and one the sinks doesn’t work at all. I’ve been trying to avoid if at possible; it’s awful trying to have a pee with her wailing at you-”

“Look, food!” said Ron, doing a wonderful job of playing ‘Change the Uncomfortable Subject’.

On the other side of the dungeon was a long table, covered like every other piece of furniture with black velvet. Within a few steps, however, it was clear that the food that had been set out was not fit for human consumption.

A porty ghost approached the table, crouched low, and walked through the table, his mouth passing through a rotten salmon on a silver platter.

“Can you taste it if you walk through it?” Harry asked him, glad he had not yet had dinner. The spread was doing enough to murder his appetite.

“Almost,” the ghost replied sadly, before drifting away.

“I expect they’ve let it rot to give it a stronger flavor,” said Hermione knowledgeably, pinching her nose to get a closer look at a rather putrid haggis.

“Can we move? I feel sick,” said Ron. They quickly obliged.

Of course, they had barely turned around when they were confronted by the bane of teachers and students alike.

“Hello, Peeves,” growled Danny.

Peeves the Poltergeist was a stark contrast to the ghosts that around them. Where the has-beings were silvery and varying levels of transparent, Peeves was a bright mis-mash of colors and styles. He had traded his usual hat for a bright orange party cone, while a purple bow-tie with white polka-dots revolved on his neck, and his wicked face sported a broad grin.

“Nibbles?” He offered a bowl of fungus-covered nuts with all the sweetness of a used car salesman.

“No thanks,” said Hermione, a little green in the face.

“Heard you was talking about poor Myrtle,” said Peeves, eyes dancing with mischief. “ _ Rude _ you was about poor Myrtle.” Peeves took a deep breath, but whatever he was about to bellow was cut off by Danny.

“PEEVES!” He barked. The poltergeist froze at the dangerous green eyes glaring at him.

“Listen, Peeves, I’ll cut you a deal.” the humans in the room looked at Danny like he had grown a second head. Peeves was listening intently.

“You leave us and the ghosts alone, and you can put all that mischief to use on our  _ illustrious _ Defense Professor.” Harry said with a rather goblin-esque grin, which Peeves promptly mirrored.

“Dealsies!” Peeves flew through the ceiling. 

“Well, is it too much to hope that he’ll drive him from the castle?” Harry asked, sick and tired of having to play the part of the monster in every single reenactment of scenes from Lockhart’s books during Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Hermione was just glaring at the two.

Sir Nicholas drifted over through the crowd.

“Enjoying yourselves?”

“A bit more now that Peeves is elsewhere.” 

“Not a bad turnout,” Sir Nicholas declared proudly. “The Wailing Widow came all the way from Kent…. It’s nearly time for my speech, I’d better go and warn the orchestra….”

The warning, however, was unneeded, as hunting horn sounded, silencing the room.

“Oh, here we go,” the Gryffindor ghost said bitterly.

A dozen ghost horses burst through the wall, each one ridden by a headless horseman. The assembly started clapping wildly, while Nick looked like his thunder had been yanked out from under his metaphysical feet.

The horses galloped to the middle of the dance floor, rearing and plunging as they halted.At the front of the pack was a tall, broad-shouldered ghost whose head was carried under his arm. The bearded head was blowing the horn. The ghost dismounted and lifted his head high in the air to the laughter of the other ghosts, before doing the ghost equivalent of striding over to Sir Nicholas, squashing his head pack onto his neck.

“Nick!” The leader of the Headless Hunt roared. “How are you? Head still hanging in there?” He gave a hearty guffaw at his own joke and clapped Nick on the shoulder.

“Welcome, patrick,” said Nick with the stiffness of a corpse.

“Live’uns!” Sir Patrick had spotted the quartet of humans and gave a huge, fake jump of astonishment, so that his head fell off again, much to the crowd’s amusement.

“Very amusing,” Nick deadpanned.

“Don’t mind Nick!” Sir ‘Properly-Decapitated Podmore’s head shouted from the floor. “Still upset we won’t let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say - look at the fellow -”

“Well, he did get Peeves to follow an order.” Harry said hurriedly. “And the only one Peeves usually listens to is the Bloody Baron.”

“Ha!” scoffed Sir Patrick’s head. “Bet he asked you to say that!” 

“If I could have everyone’s attention, it’s time for my speech!” Nearly headless Nick announced, gliding toward the podium and rising into an icy blue spotlight.

“My late lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is my great sorrow…”

But nobody heard much more, as the crowd was more interested the game of Head Hockey being played by the Headless Hunt, using Sir Patrick’s head as the puck. Sir Nicholas tried in vain to reclaim his audience, but gave up as Sir Patrick’s head went flying past.

It landed at the foot of Danny, who looked down at it with a look of contempt, before rearing back his leg.

“Ha! Do your worst!” The head taunted.

Danny obliged.

A couple moments later, the bearded head soared through the wall, followed quickly by the Headless Hunt.

Everyone’s eyes turned to Danny, who now had a silvery stain on his shoe.

“What? He was being rude to his host.” Danny looked down at his shoe. “Great, anyone know how to get ghost spit out of canvas?”

Sir Nicholas took the opportunity to recapture his audience’s attention, continuing his speech and reciting a poem about his death.

“Those Headless Hunt guys were creepy.” Harry said as they started to make their way out of the dungeon to warmer surroundings.

“How so?” Hermione asked.

“The Fireys.” He replied succinctly.

Hermione froze. “Thanks for that, I hadn’t had those nightmares for years.”

Ron, ignorant of that particular film, just had his hopes set on the feast as he led the way to the entrance hall.

“Pudding might not be finished yet.” 

Harry and Danny froze as a sound reached their ears.

_ / _ ...  _ rip… tear… kill…/ _

It was a cold, murderous voice. Both cousins clutched the stone wall, listening with all their might while squinting up and down the passagway.

“Harry, Danny, what’re you -?”

“Shh! Did you hear that voice?”

“Voice? What voice?”

_ /… soo hungry… for so long…/ _

“Listen!” said Harry urgently, and Ron and Hermione froze, watching them.

_ /… kill… time to kill.../ _

The voice was moving away, growing fainter, and moving  _ up _ . They looked up, a mixture of fear and excitement gripping them.

“This way,” Harry shouted, running up the stairs into the entrance hall. Danny followed close behind, Ron and Hermione bringing up the rear.

“Harry, what’re we -”

“SHH!”

The cousins strained their ears. The voice sounded again, this time from the floor above.

_ /… I smell blood…. I SMELL BLOOD!/ _

Two stomachs lurched.

“It’s going to kill someone!” Harry shouted, frantic as he charged up the stairs, heedless of Ron and Hermione’s bewildered faces as he took the stairs three at a time, following the voice until the quartet reached a deserted corridor.

“ _ What _ was that all about?” Ron asked, wiping the sweat from his brow. “I couldn’t hear anything…”

“ _ Look! _ ” Hermione gasped.

At the end of the corridor was a large puddle of water. Between two windows, words had been written in foot high red letters that glistened in the light of the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN

OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

Underneath the ominous message was a dark shape. It took a few seconds to realize what it was, but when they did,all four of them jumped back in shock.

Mrs. Norris was hanging from a torch bracket by her tail. She was stiff as a board, her usually lamp-like eyes dull, wide, and staring.

“Let’s get out of here.” Ron said apprehensively.

“Shouldn’t we try and help -” Harry began awkwardly.

“Trust me,” said Ron. “We really don’t want to be found here.”

It was too late for that, as the sound of distant thunder told them the feast had ended, and the sound of hundreds of feet climbing the stairs sounded from either side of the corridor. 

The chatter and bustle died suddenly as the hanging feline was spotted by the people in front of the crowd.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware! You’ll be next, Mudbloods!” 

Of course Malfoy had to break the silence with a sneer. He was grinning at the site of the immobile cat. 

“What’s going on here? What’s going on?” Filch shouted as he shouldered his way through the crowd, no doubt prompted by Malfoy’s boast. When he saw Mrs. Norris, however, he fell back, clutching his face in horror.

“My cat! My cat! What’s happened to Mrs. Norris?” he shrieked. His popping eyes fell on Harry.

“ _ You! _ ” he screeched. “ _ You! _ You’ve murdered my cat! You’ve killed her! I’ll kill ya! I’ll -”

Danny was standing defensively in front of Harry when another familiar voice rang out.

“ _ Argus! _ ” 

Dumbledore had arrived on the scene, several of the professors in tow. In seconds, the Headmaster had swept past the quartet and detached Mrs. Norris from the torch bracket.

“Come with me, Argus,” he said to Filch. “You too, Mr. Potter, Mr. Fenton, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger.”

Lockhart stepped forward eagerly. Danny noted that his robes were stained about the shoulders. 

“My office is nearest, Headmaster - just upstairs - please feel free -”

“Thank you, Gilderoy,” replied Dumbledore.

As the group departed, Danny flared his eyes green,  _ feeling _ the magic around him. Where Mrs. Norris had been suspended, he picked up a trace of magic that set the hairs on the back of his neck on end and an inaudible growl in his throat. He hissed out a single syllable before following the Headmaster.

“ _ Gaunt. _ ”


	17. The Chamber of Secrets

Contrary to Filch’s ravings and Lockhart’s comments, Dumbledore’s analysis revealed that Mrs. Norris had merely been petrified. Filch’s accusations that Harry was responsible were cut off by Professor Snape.

“If I might speak, Headmaster, Potter and his friends may have simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said with a sneer, as though he doubted that was the case. “But we do have a set of suspicious circumstances here. Why was he in the upstairs corridor at all? Why wasn’t he at the Halloween feast?”

“We were at Sir Nicholas’ deathday party as guests of honor. All the ghosts in the castle were there, they’ll vouch for us. Well, except maybe Sir ‘Properly-Decapitated’ Podmore, but he’s probably sore about his head being punted through a wall.”

“But why not join the feast afterward?” Snape’s abyssal black eyes glittered in the candlelight. “Why go up to that corridor.”

“Because - because -” Harry looked to Danny for advice. The thirteen-year old mouthed ‘Be honest.’ “Because Danny and I heard a voice in the walls, and it was heading that direction.”

All of the Professor’s eyes widened at that. “A voice?”

“It said… ‘time to kill’” Harry said hesitantly

Snape looked at Ron and Hermione. “And did either of you hear this voice?”

“No… sir.”

“Interesting.” Snape drawled. “How can we be sure that Mr. Potter and Mr. Fenton are not merely lying? I did hear Mr. Fenton say something in the corridor. Do you wish to repeat it?”

“I can sometimes detect magical signatures, and I don’t why, but I recognized the magic around Mrs. Norris. It was Gaunt.”

Dumbledore’s eyes widened. “I think that will be all for tonight. You may go.”

‘But what about my cat! I want to see some  _ punishment _ !” Filch shrieked.

“We will be able to cure her, Argus,” Dumbledore patiently assured him. “Professor Sprout recently managed to procure some Mandrakes. As soon as they have reached their full size, I will have a potion made that will revive Mrs. Norris.”

“I’ll make it,” Lockhart butted in. “I must have done it a hundred times. I could whip up a Mandrake Restorative Draught in my sleep -”

Danny didn’t trust Lockhart to make a Boil-Cure, much less a restorative draught, and Professor Snape took umbrage at Lockhart’s insinuations.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted icily. “But I believe  _ I _ am the Potions Master at this school.”

The quartet turned into an empty classroom on the floor up from Lockhart’s office. They quickly closed the door behind them. Harry squinted at his friends’ darkened faces.

“D’you think I shouldn’t have mentioned the voice Danny and I heard?”

“Yes,” said Ron without hesitation. “Hearing voices that nobody else can hear isn’t a good sign, even in the wizarding world.”

“But I heard it too.” Danny countered.

“And you can apparently see magical signatures. That’s like  _ Dumbledore _ -level magic.”

“It was how I knew Quirrel was the one jinxing Harry’s broom last year.” That shut Ron’s mouth.

“You do believe us, don’t you?” Harry asked.

“‘Course I do,” Ron said defensively. “But - you must admit it’s weird….”

“I know it’s weird,” Harry replied. “The whole thing’s weird. What was that writing on the wall about?  _ The Chamber of Secrets has been opened _ …. What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It feels like I should know it, but I can’t seem to remember.” Danny had a hand to his forehead, in deep thought.

“You know, it rings a sort of bell,” said Ron slowly. “I think someone told me a story about a secret chamber at Hogwarts once… might’ve been Bill… or Fred….”

And what on earth is a squib?” asked Hermione.

Ron stifled a snicker.

“Well - it’s not funny really - but as it’s Filch,” he explained. “A Squib is someone who was born into a wizarding family but hasn’t got any magic of their own. Kind of the opposite of Muggle-born wizard’s but Squibs are quite unusual. If Filch’s trying to learn magic from a Kwikspell course, I reckon he must be a Squib. It would explain a lot. Like why he hates students so much. He’s bitter.”

“They’re actually not as rare as you might think; but most pure-blood families consider them a disgrace because they think their line is losing their magic. The Scourers in America did the opposite, and  _ encouraged _ their Squibs.” Danny told them.

A clock chimed somewhere.

“Midnight,” noted Harry. “We’d better get to bed before Snape or Filch come along and try to frame us for something else.”

 

~~AWS~~

 

“Hey Ginny, are you alright?” The redhead shot up at the voice of her friend.

“Oh, Leonis. It’s just you.” She said.

“I asked if you were alright?” The first year Gryffindor boy repeated.

“Yeah, just… what happened to Mrs. Norris….”

“I know, I freaked out too.” He said. “Well, if you need any help, you can trust me.” He turned and left.

“Thanks,” she said, just before Leonis was out of earshot.

 

_ November 6, 1992 _

Hermione finally asked a teacher about the Chamber of Secrets, interrupting a particularly boring lecture by Professor Binns about Medieval Assembly of European Wizards.

Professor Binns was particularly elderly ghost, whose many said didn’t even realize he had died, just getting up to teach one day while leaving his body behind. According to some of the older teachers, he had been just as boring in life.

The most exciting thing to happen in that class this year was Hermione raising her hand to interrupt his deathly dull lecture on the 1289 International Warlock Convention.

“Miss - er -?” Professor Binns never remembered his students’ names.

“Granger, Professor. I was wondering if you could tell us anything about the Chamber of Secrets,” Hermione said in a clear voice.

Several people refocused from whatever they had been doing to pass the time to stare at Hermione.

Professor Binns blinked.

“My subject is History of Magic,” he said in his dry wheezy voice, sounding offended. “I deal with  _ facts _ , Miss Granger, not myths and legends.” The sound of snapping chalk indicated the ghost had cleared his throat before resuming his lecture. “In September of that year, a subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers -”

He stuttered to a halt as Hermione waved her hand in the air again.

“Miss Grant?”

“Please, sir, don’t legends always have a basis in fact?”

Professor Binns looked as though this was the first time he had ever been interrupted during class.

“Well,” he said slowly, the words like molasses, “yes, one could argue that, I suppose. However, the legend of which you speak is such a very  _ sensational _ , even  _ ludicrous _ tale -”

The entire class was now paying attention, possibly more so than any class in memory. The ghost professor looked completely thrown by the display of interest.

“Oh, very well,” he continued. “Let me see… the Chamber of Secrets …

“You all know, of course, that Hogwarts was founded over a thousand years ago - the precise date is uncertain, but most likely in the late tenth century - by the four greatest witches and wizards of the age. The four Houses are named after them: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin, with a wizard named Brewen Dragmire serving as the first Headmaster. They built this castle together, far from prying Muggle eyes, for it was an age when magic was feared by the common people, and witches and wizards suffered much persecution.”

He paused, and gazed blearily around the room before continuing.

“For a few years, the founders worked in harmony together, seeking out youngsters who showed signs of magic and bringing them to the castle to be educated. But disagreements sprang up between them. A rift began to grow between Slytherin and the others. Slytherin wished to be more  _ selective _ about the students admitted to Hogwarts. He believed that magical learning should be kept within all-magic families. He disliked taking students of Muggle parentage, believing them to be untrustworthy. After a while, there was a serious argument on the subject between Slytherin and Gryffindor, and Slytherin left the school.

“Reliable historical sources tell us this much,” he said, his pursed lips making him look like a wrinkled old tortoise. “But these honest facts have been obscured by the fanciful legend of the Chamber of Secrets. The story goes that Slytherin had built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing.

“Slytherin, according to legend, sealed the Chamber of Secrets so that none would be able to open it until his own true heir arrived at the school. The heir alone would be able to unseal the Chamber of Secrets, unleash the horror within, and use it to purge the school of all those who, in Slytherin’s opinion, were unworthy to study magic.”

The class was silent with anticipation. Professor Binns looked annoyed.

“The whole thing is arrant nonsense, of course,” he said. “Naturally, the school has been searched for evidence of such a chamber, many times, by the most learned witches and wizards. It does not exist. A tale told to frighten the gullible.”

Hermione had another question.

“Sir - what exactly do you mean by the ‘horror within’ the Chamber?”

“That is believed to be some sort of monster, which the Heir of Slytherin alone can control.”

The class exchanged nervous looks.

“I tell you, the thing does not exist,” Binns shuffled his notes. “There is no Chamber and no monster.”

“But sir,” Seamus got into the discussion. “If the Chamber can only be opened by Slytherin’s true heir, no one else  _ would _ be able to find it, would they?”

“Nonsense, O’Flaherty,” Binns said in an aggravated tone. “If a long succession of Hogwarts headmasters and headmistresses haven’t found the thing -”

“But, Professor,” piped up Parvati Patil, one of Hermione’s roommates, “you’d probably have to use Dark Magic to open it -”

“Just because a wizard  _ doesn’t _ use Dark Magic doesn’t mean he  _ can’t _ , Miss Pennyfeather,” Binns snapped. “I repeat, if the likes of Dumbledore -”

“What if it requires the blood of the heir to access it? Not even Dumbledore could get past a blood seal-”

“That will do, Mr Fenton.” He said with the sharpness of a knife. “It is a myth! It does not exist! There is not a shred of evidence that Slytherin ever built so much as a secret broom cupboard! I regret telling you such a foolish story! We will return, if you please, to  _ history _ , to solid, believable, verifiable  _ fact _ !”

It was less than five minutes before the cass had returned to its normal torpor.

 

~~AWS~~

 

I always knew Salazar Slytherin was a twisted old loony,” Ron told the rest of the quartet as they fought through the teeming corridors at the end of the lesson to drop off their bags before dinner. “But I never knew he started all this pure-blood stuff. I wouldn’t be in his house if you paid me. Honestly, if the Sorting Hat had tried to put me in Slytherin, I’d’ve got the train straight back home….”

Hermione nodded fervently. But Harry and Danny’s minds were elsewhere. Ron and Hermione had been born and raised in Britain, but the cousins had spent their formative years in America, and naturally, they had heard the story of Ilvermorny’s founding.

In front of Ilvermorny Castle stood a snakewood tree, grown from where Salazar Slytherin’s wand had been buried. The tree resisted all attempts to cut or prune, but its leaves had powerful medicinal properties. It was often said that the best of Salazar had made its way to the New World.

And deep in his gut, Danny knew that there was something wrong with Professor Binns’ tale.

As they were shunted along in the throng, Colin Creevy went past.

“Hiya Harry!”

“Hullo, Colin,” said Harry automatically. When the first year wasn’t with his friends, he was following Harry, and sometimes his friends would join in.

“Harry - Harry - a boy in my class has been saying you’re -”

But Colin was small even for a first year, and couldn’t stand in the face of the tide of people bearing him toward the Great Hall; they heard him squeak, “See you, Harry!” and he was gone.

“What’s a boy in his class saying about you?” Hermione wondered.

“That I’m Slytherin’s heir, I expect,” said Harry bitterly. Most of the muggle-born students seemed to avoiding Harry like the plague.

“People here’ll believe anything,” said Ron in disgust.

The crowd finally thinned and they were able to climb the next set of stairs unimpeded.

“D’you  _ really _ think there’s a Chamber of Secrets?” Ron asked Hermione.

She frowned. “I don’t know. Dumbledore couldn’t cure Mrs. Norris, and that makes me think that whatever attacked her might not be - well - human.”

The rounded the corner and found themselves at the site of the attack. They stopped and looked. While Mrs. Norris had been taken down from the torch bracket, and the puddle of water mopped up, the writing on the wall remained untouched, despite Filch’s attempts to remove it.

“That’s where Filch has been keeping guard,” Ron muttered, gesturing at the chair propped against the message-bearing wall.

The quartet looked at each other. The corridor was deserted as it had been that night.

“Can’t hurt to have a poke around,” Harry dropped his bag and got on his hands and knees to search for clues.

After finding scorch marks, and more spiders than were comfortable for Ron, they searched for the source of the water that had been on the floor. Tracing it to a long-disused bathroom, they entered.

It was the gloomiest, single most depressing bathroom any of them had seen. A row of chipped sinks sat under a large mirror covered in spots and cracks. The floor was damp and reflected the minimal light cast by the stubs of candles. The wooden stall doors were scratched and flaking, and in one case dangling off its hinges.

Hermione put her fingers to her lips and set off toward the end stall. When she reached it she said, “Hello, Myrtle, how are you?”

Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank of the toilet, picking a spot on her chin. 

“This is a  _ girls’ _ bathroom,” she said, eyeing Harry, Danny, and Ron with suspicion. “ _ They’re _ not girls.”

“No,” Hermione agreed. “I just wanted to show them how - er -nice it is in here.”

She waved vaguely at the dirty old mirror and damp floor.

“Hermione, let me do the talking.” Danny said. Myrtle eyed him even more suspiciously.

“We have a couple questions, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No one ever asks me anything. They’re all too busy talking behind my back.”

“Well, I was wondering, do you know anything about the Chamber of Secrets?”

“Oh, that? There was a big fuss about it in my third year. Muggle-borns were being found petrified, and they were talking about closing the school.” Myrtle said.

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“I died.”

“But, how?”

“Ooooh, it was dreadful,” she said with relish. Like most ghosts, she probably always wanted to tell people about it, but no one had asked. “It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I’d hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a  _ boy _ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then -” She swelled importantly, her translucent face shining. “I  _ died _ .”

“How? Was there some sort of light, or anything?” Harry asked.

“No idea,” said Myrtle in hushed tones. “I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away….” She looked dreamily at Danny. “And then I came back. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she’d ever laughed at my glasses.”

“Why’d you stop?” Ron asked.

“I crashed her wedding and the Ministry confined me here, apparently her husband was some Ministry big shot, Fudge-something, I think.”

Danny glared at Ron. “Where exactly did you see the eyes?” he asked.

She gestured to the sink in front of her toilet. “Somewhere over there, by that sink.”

Danny searched the derelict sink, and tried the tap, which failed to run. He tested the one next to it, and found that it worked. He checked the sink again, and found, scratched into the side of the copper tap, a crude engraving of a snake.

“I wonder….” Danny did his best impression of Ollivander. He looked at the carving.

“ _ /Open/ _ ”

Ron and Hermione recoiled like they had been struck.

“You’re a  _ Parselmouth! _ ” Ron exclaimed. Any further reply was cut off however, as the tap glowed white and the sink began to recede into the wall. On the ground where the sink had been, a hole now sat, wide enough for a grown man to slide into. 

“ _ Lumos. _ ” Danny lit the end of his wand, illuminating the hole to reveal a metal ring that gave way to a stone pipe. 

“Well, I think we just proved ol’ Binns wrong.” Danny said. 

“Wait, you’re not going  _ down _ there, are you?” Ron squeaked.

“Look, if the Heir is getting into the Chamber, we may be able to cut them off, or at least find out what the monster is so we can report it.” Harry said, making his way to the entrance. 

“F...fine.” Ron sighed. “But the first sign of something wrong, we leave.”

“Fine by me.” Danny leapt down the hole, followed quickly by Harry.

The tunnel was a nearly endless slide, curving every now and then and branching off in several places, but none as large as the main pipe. The steep downward slide told them they were far beneath the school, below even the deepest dungeons. Then, in one final curve, the pipe leveled out.

Danny shot out of the end with a wet thud, landing on the damp floor of a dark stone tunnel large enough to stand in easily. Harry was the next one out, landing on the seat of his robe. Ron flew out next, followed by Hermione, who had the least graceful landing. 

“We must be miles under the school,” voiced Hermione.

“Under the lake, probably,” said Ron, who was squinting around at the dark, slimy walls. 

“ _ Lumos. _ ” The quartet lit their wands. Danny raised his wand high, and noticed something on the wall.

“ _ Incendio. _ ” He cast, striking the torch, which quickly lit up. The torch opposite it lit as well, followed by the ones next to them, until the entire tunnel was lit by the torches, their brackets shaped like serpents.

“A Protean Charm.” Hermione noted. “The torches are enchanted so that lighting one lights them all.” She explained. 

“Better than having to light them one at a time,” said Danny. “Now, shall we?”

The quartet began walking down the corridor, jumping at every shadow.

The ground was littered with the skeletons of rats and small lizards. The tunnel, silent save for the flickering of the torches, and the occasional crunch of small bones underfoot.

“There’s something up there -” Ron pointed at a dark corner, where the torches cast a shadow of something misshapen.

Turning around the bend, they saw what was casting the shadow. An object that was both curved and jagged, upon closer inspection, turned out to be a downright  _ massive _ snakeskin. The shed skin was a venomous green, lying curled and empty across the tunnel. Whatever manner of beast that the skin belonged to had to have been at least twenty-feet long, and over two feet wide.

Slipping over the skin, they made their way deeper into the tunnel, going through a labyrinth of turns, until finally reaching the end of the tunnel. A large, circular door blocked the path. Six serpents were carved upon it, each of varying lengths and coils.

“ _ /Open/ _ ” This time Harry spoke. A seventh snake slithered out of a tube-like hinge, driving the other snakes back as it circled the door. When it had completed the circle, the door smoothly swung open, like a well-built bank vault.

The true chamber was lined with towering stone statues of snakes, their mouths wide open as though to strike. At the far end of the chamber was a massive statue depicting a bald, monkeyish face overlooking a large pool of water.

But what drew the quartet’s attention most was the massive, coiled shape in the center of the room.

It was a basilisk.

Its scales were a darker green than the snakeskin they found earlier. It’s coils, thick as an ancient oak, had to measure at least fifty, maybe sixty feet when fully stretched. It’s nostrils flared as it took a breath, and it began to raise its head.

“ _ /Stop!/ _ ” Danny hissed.

The basilisk froze, and took another sniff.

_ /Speaker,/ _ the basilisk hissed.

“ _ /Yes, I am a Speaker. I order you not to attack./ _ ” Danny hissed.

_ /I will not attack, True Speaker./ _

“ _ /True Speaker?/ _ ” Harry asked. The basilisk turned its head to Harry, and sniffed again. 

_ /Two True Speakers?/ _

The next words the basilisk hissed stunned the two Parselmouths.

_ /Please, help. Dark Speak-Thief has bound me to his will. Cannot disobey his orders./ _

“ _ /Can we help?/ _ ” Harry hissed.

_ /You can free me. You have the cleansing fire./ _ The basilisk was now facing Danny.

Danny held out his hand, and lit a ball of green fire in it. His eyes flared green in understanding, and shoved his hand forward, the fire flaring out in two tongues of flame. The verdant blaze entwined around the basilisk from snout to tail, sinking into its scales. The serpent’s skin began to grow brighter, until it matched the green of the shed snakeskin. 

Danny cut off the fire, and swayed woozily on his feet. Harry caught him on his shoulder. 

_ /Thank you, True Speakers. I longer serve the Dark Speak-Thief./ _

“ _ /Who is the ‘Dark Speak-Thief’/ _ ” Harry asked.

_ /Tom Riddle, Last Son of Gaunt. He twisted my purpose and made me attack those I had been sworn by Master Salazar himself./ _

“ _ /What?/ _ ” Danny hissed.

_ /Master Salazar made me swear to protect the magicals of the castle above. Gaunt bound my mind with his dark magic... forced me to attack magicals. Claimed magicals were impure… could not resist his command./ _ The basilisk hissed mournfully.

“ _ /Do you have a name?/ _ ” Harry asked.

_ /Master Salazar named me after his first love, Sciath./ _

“/Well, Sciath, Riddle is likely still in the castle, and he may try to order you to attack again-/”

/I will not listen to anything he has to say anymore. I will petrify him and leave him for yours to deal with. I can smell an innocent has been put under his thrall like me./


	18. The Fall of Lucius Malfoy

_ November 9, 1992 _

It was just past midnight when Ginny Weasley was found petrified in the first floor girl’s bathroom. Moaning Myrtle had kicked up a fuss and drawn the teachers. 

Harry was in the hospital wing having the bones of his arm regrown because of Lockhart’s ineptitude. During the Quidditch match the previous day, one of the Slytherin Beaters had gotten a lucky shot that snapped the Seeker’s arm. He had the caught the Snitch shortly after, but Lockhart had decided to play Healer and managed to  _ remove _ the bones he had supposedly been trying to mend. 

It was a small consolation that Lockhart had joined him in the hospital wing not a few hours later, after a bust of Paracelsus had  _ mysteriously _ fallen on his head. 

Peeves would definitely be getting something nice for Christmas. 

“What happened?” Madam Pomfrey whispered to Dumbledore. 

“Another attack,” said Dumbledore, “Miss Myrtle called Minerva and myself, screaming at the top of her lungs.”

“Petrified?” whispered Madam Pomfrey again.

“Yes,” said Professor McGonagall. “But I shudder to think… If Albus had not been on the way downstairs for hot chocolate and heard the commotion - who knows what might have -”

The three of them stared down at Ginny’s frozen form. Then Dumbledore leaned forward, and wrenched something from her hand.

“What is it?” Madam Pomfrey asked. Dumbledore’s eyes widened as he held the object.

“I believe that we have found the culprit behind the Chamber being opened.”

“Miss Weasley?” McGonagall’s eyes widened as she stepped back. “But that’s impossible! Albus, you are not saying that Ginny is the Heir of Slytherin?”

“Not Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore showed them the object. “Sometimes, the most innocuous of objects hold the greatest evil.”

Harry focused through the pain of having his arm bones regrowing in splinters, and exercised his Metamorph ability on his eyes, a stressful endeavor that nevertheless bore fruit. His vision became sharper, and could clearly see the details of the object in Dumbledore’s hand.

It was a small book, yellowed pages bound in black leather. On the front cover, stenciled in gold, was a name and a year.

T. M. Riddle, 1942

Harry didn’t recognize the name, but Dumbledore seemed to have, because the next thing he did was draw his wand and cast what looked to be several containment charms around it. When he had finished, the book appeared to have been shrink-wrapped with glitter.Dumbledore tucked the book into a pocket of his robes.

“It is rather late, and I say you will likely need your strength for the morning.” Dumbledore told Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall, who grumpily obliged. When both had left the hospital wing, the Headmaster turned to Harry.

“You heard all that, did you not?”

Harry reluctantly nodded.

“You feel… guilty?” He asked.

Harry’s eyes widened.

“H-how?”

“Occlumency can protect the mind from intrusion, but if one wishes to hide their emotions, one must learn not to broadcast them on their face.”

Despite his Metamorphmagus abilities, Harry went red.

“You will not get in trouble, Harry; but I would like to know how you came to believe yourself responsible for what happened to Miss Weasley.”

“The Chamber of Secrets is real. Danny and I found it last Friday.” Harry admitted.

“Numerous headmasters and headmistresses have searched the castle for the Chamber of Secrets, and found nothing.” Dumbledore sighed. “If you would, I would very much like to know how two second years managed to do it.”

“The Muggles say dead men tell no tales. They’re wrong.” Harry quipped. It took all of ten seconds for the old wizard to make the connection. 

“I see, so Miss Warren told you how she passed?”

“Warren?” 

“Her name was Myrtle Warren.”

“I don’t think she likes being called Moaning Myrtle. If Danny wasn’t there, I don’t think she would have told us.”

“Indeed, young Mr Fenton is truly one of a kind.” Dumbledore said, a twinkle in his eye. “Now, if I may ask you a question; how did you access the Chamber?”

“The sink across from Myrtle’s stall. There’s a snake scratched on the tap, but you need to speak parseltongue to open it.

“I assumed it would be something like that. Salazar Slytherin was known as ‘Serpent Tongue’ in his time, and the snake  _ is _ the symbol of his House.”

“It is pretty obvious when you think about it.” A pause. “Professor? What’s going to happen to Ginny?”

“I have reason to believe Miss Weasley was not herself when she was petrified. When she is unpetrified, I doubt any action will be taken against her. The person responsible for her being put in that position, I do not believe will be as safe.”

“Tom Riddle, he was controlling her.”

“Yes, but you may know him better as Voldemort.”

Harry gave a gasp.

“Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle, who used an anagram of his name to strike fear into an entire nation.” Dumbledore explained. “I daresay you’ve bested him once again, only this time without him even realizing your involvement.”

A sudden thought came to his head.

“I think Malfoy might have given her the book.”

One of Dumbledore’s wiry eyebrows rose. “Your reasoning?”

“Last summer, a House Elf showed up in my room on my birthday, warning me that something bad was going to happen at Hogwarts. He couldn’t say who was behind it, but he did imply it was one of Voldemort’s followers. And then, at Flourish and Blotts, Mr. Weasley got into a fight with Mr. Malfoy, and he had been holding Ginny’s Transfiguration book when a shelf fell on him. He was still holding the book when Hagrid picked him up.”

Dumbledore looked thoughtful for a moment.

“Thank you for telling me, Harry. Now, I would get some rest. Your bones are still regrowing, after all.”

Harry became acutely aware of the splinters of bone forcing their way into their proper places in his arm. He did as the headmaster had suggested, and was asleep within minutes.

 

~~AWS~~

 

Dumbledore sat in the throne-like chair behind his desk, and withdrew the book he had recovered from Ginny. Placing the book on his desk, he pulled a quill and ink bottle from the top drawer. The quill was a glittering red and gold, its owner snoozing on his perch nearby.

Opening the book and dipping the end of the quill in the ink well, he started writing.

‘Hello Tom’

_ ‘Hello, who is this?’ _

‘Someone who would like to know what you are.’

_ ‘I am the recorded memories of things that were covered up at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’ _

‘That is where we are now. But how you got here, I do not know.’

_ ‘A man named Lucius Malfoy gave me to a student, to share my knowledge. What happened to her?’ _

‘She was petrified while carrying you.’

_ ‘IMPOSSIBLE, THE BASILISK WOULDN’T ATTACK HER MASTER!’ _

‘I didn’t say anything about a basilisk.’

_ ‘Oh crap. Don’t tell anyone.’ _

‘It’s a bit too late for that, Tom. Now, you will tell me what you truly know about the Chamber of Secrets, and how you came to be at the school, else you may find yourself in a rather…  _ combustible _ situation.’

The diary spilled its secrets. By the time dawn had arrived, Dumbledore had the knowledge necessary to liberate an innocent man, and bring down a guilty one. 

It took most of the week to gain the material for the case, however. In between dealing with the minutiae of running a school, Dumbledore had placed inquiries at the House Elf Relocation Office, where detailed records of every House Elf in Britain were kept, as well as submitting his evidence to the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Amelia Bones. Amelia was a staunch supporter of law and order, with little patience for corruption. If anyone were to finally put Lucius Malfoy away, it would be her. The problem with Lucius Malfoy was that he had Fudge in his pocket, and it would take a quick, decisive strike to actually do something about him.

It was for this reason the Aurors were being called to help Arthur Weasley’s department perform a raid, under the pretense that a concerned citizen had reported Lucius Malfoy pawning off several objects at Borgin and Burkes.

 

_ November 13, 1992 _

Lucius Malfoy had just gotten ready for bed when Dobby announced that he had visitors. Throwing on a cloak and taking up his cane, he stalked to the foyer and demanded that the House Elf identify the people who had so thoughtlessly interrupted his evening routine.

“It be the Ministry!” Dobby announced.Lucius batted the House Elf to the side with his cane as he approached the door. 

‘What could Fudge possibly want at this time of night?’ he thought as he threw open the door. Only it wasn’t the Minister at the door, it was a visage that every Death Eater knew and feared.

Auror Alastor ‘Mad-Eye’ Moody, and behind him were two other wizards in red robes and feathered hats, along with Amelia Bones in her official dark blue robes, and Arthur Weasley, in his usual unflattering green. 

“Lucius Malfoy, you are under arrest.” Auror Moody stated. “I would come quietly, if I were you.”

Years of fighting as a Death Eater came rushing back to him as Lucius drew his wand from his cane. Of course, over a decade out of service had dulled his reflexes, and while he anticipated the Disarming Charm, he was unprepared for the Clothes-Tangling Jinx that struck his cloak. The black silk began wrapping around him like a burial shroud, and he frantically tore the offending garment off, throwing it to the side as he prepared to curse the Aurors who had  _ dared _ to enter his property.

He was stopped short by the squeal behind him. 

The cloak he had so carelessly torn off landed in Dobby’s hands.

“Master has given Dobby a cloak. Dobby is free!” The House Elf vanished in a pop, and Lucius was too shocked by the turn of events to block the Disarmer and Stunner sent at his back. 

 

_ November 14, 1992 _

“This is the trial of the People of Magical Britain versus Lucius Malfoy. The date is the fourteenth of November, year nineteen ninety-two. Chief Warlock Albus Dumbledore presiding.” The court reporter stated. 

Albus banged the gavel to bring the court to order, and began the proceedings.

“Madam Bones, if you would, read the charges levied against Mr Malfoy.”

The Head of the DMLE stood up, her square jaw and monocle giving her an air of someone not to cross. 

“Mr Lucius Malfoy has been charged with the following: Possession of fifty cursed artifacts with the potential to be used in muggle-baiting; Possession of one hundred further cursed artifacts; Two counts of petrification by proxy; and attempted resisting arrest.”

A murmur ran through the benches. Dumbledore had to bang the gavel again to get everyone’s attention. “How does the defendant plead?”

“Not guilty on all charges.” Lucius said from the chair at the center of the courtroom, bound from the neck down in chains.

“The defendant pleads not guilty, but I believe he may revise his plea upon seeing the evidence we have collected.” Albus announced. “Let us look at the most serious of the charges: Two counts of Petrification by Proxy. On October thirty-first, nineteen ninety-two, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, The caretaker’s cat was found hanging from a torch bracket, petrified. A little over a week later, Miss Ginerva Weasley was found petrified in the first floor girls bathroom, the same bathroom, need I remind the court, where Myrtle Warren was found dead forty-nine years ago. In Miss Weasley’s hands was a book, more accurately, a diary; one which had been heavily cursed and bewitched. It was Harry Potter who told me of the encounter between Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley at Flourish and Blotts on the nineteenth of August. Mr Malfoy, do you recognize this diary?” 

Dumbledore lifted the diary from where he had hidden it under his bench, levitating it with his hand. All the color fled from Lucius’ face, as though death itself had just come for him.

“Yes, I recognize the diary, and I would like to revise my plea to guilty on all counts.”

An invisible smirk crossed the Chief Warlock’s face. 

“So, you admit to giving a cursed diary to Arthur Weasley’s daughter?”

“Yes, I intended for him to get arrested for his own law, but I did not expect the girl to bring the diary to Hogwarts.” 

“So, in your attempt to sabotage a department head of the Ministry of Magic, you endangered every person at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”

“Yes.” He said, defeated. 

“Very well. All for conviction?” Most of the hands in the room went up. Albus noted that all of the members whose hands were raised had children currently attending Hogwarts.

“The majority has ruled. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, for the crimes listed by Madam Bones, and reckless endangerment of over three hundred minors, you are hereby sentenced to ten years in Azkaban prison. Aurors, take him away.” Dumbledore slammed the gavel down with a sense of finality. 

“We will have a ten minute recess, before we start the second case on the agenda for today, the hearing to repeal the expulsion of one Rubeus Hagrid from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The hearing will be held in Courtroom Seven.”

The crowd of plum-robed witches and wizards filed out of the courtroom.

The Wizengamot reconvened down the hall, in Courtroom Seven. Courtroom ten was the court for criminal trials and hearings, hence the gloomy atmosphere and chairs that bound the person sitting in them. Courtroom Seven was far nicer, with rich wood paneling and much warmer lighting. The crowd that entered the courtroom was significantly smaller than the court that convicted Lucius Malfoy, however, in addition to the plum-robed Wizengamot, the Hogwarts Board of Governors was present, as expulsion was typically handled by the Board, but the Wizengamot was involved because the expulsion was related to a capital offense.

Hagrid entered the courtroom a couple minutes after everyone had sat down. He had taken Albus’ advice to look presentable. He was wearing a brand new brown robe, and his wild mane had been tamed with a dozen bottles of Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. The gamekeeper sat next to Dumbledore, who was serving as a witness rather than an interrogator.

“Disciplinary hearing of the fourteenth of November, into the circumstances of the expulsion of Rubeus Heracle Hagrid from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, on the thirteenth of June, nineteen forty-three.” Augusta Longbottom, the newly appointed interim head for the Board of Governors announced to the court. The scribe was writing down every word. 

“Interrogators: Augusta Francine Longbottom, Interim head of the Hogwarts Board of Governors; Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Witness for the defense, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Chief Warlock and Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Court Scribe, William Archibald Crumb.

The charges against the accused are as follows: That he opened the Chamber of Secrets and petrified four students during the nineteen forty-two-nineteen forty-three school year, and killed Myrtle Warren, a third year student. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty. I ne’er opened the Chamber of Secrets. I never would’a done anythin’ like that!”

“Then how did you come to be accused?” Madam Longbottom spoke calmly.

“It were Aragog, he’s an acromantula, see. A traveller gave me his egg and I kept ‘im in a crate during my third year. Riddle, he were a Prefect - he was speadin’ rumors about me, terrible slander - anyway, he found out about him after Myrtle died. He told Headmaster Dippet that I ‘ad opened the Chamber and Aragog were the monster. He broke Aragog’s crate and tried to kill him, but he ran to the forest. He never left his crate before that, though. I brought him rats and such to eat, but it was a Prefect’s word against my own, and my da’ had died the year before, so I couldn’t afford no lawyers or anything. Next thing I know, My wand’s been snapped. Professor Dumbledore believed I were innocent, but Dippet wouldn’t listen. He did let me stay on as gamekeeper, and Dumbledore helped me build a house on the grounds.”

Madam Bones pulled out a thin stack of parchment. “I have here transcripts from the incident in question. The students were being petrified, a power that acromantulas do not possess. Additionally, the only was an acromantula can kill is with their venom, which must be injected. Miss Warren had no such bite marks on her body when she was found. Furthermore, Acromantula live a maximum of eighty years. The Chamber of Secrets is said to be over a thousand years old. Hagrid’s pet could not have been the monster from the Chamber, nor could it have killed Miss Warren.”

“However, just because Aragog was not the monster, does not mean Hagrid did not open the Chamber and release another monster.”

Dumbledore stood up to give his own testimony.

“Last week, two students located the Chamber, and learned why it resisted all attempts to locate it previously.”

“Oh, how so?”

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is in the bathroom where Miss Warren was found. The Chamber can only be accessed by a parselmouth. From there, it was easy to determine what the creature was, and the memory contained in the artifact that Lucius had given Miss Weasley confirmed it.”

“What is the monster of the Chamber, then?” Augusta asked.

“A basilisk.”

“But there hasn’t been a basilisk recorded in Britain for at least four hundred years!” One of the governors shouted.

“The basilisk in the Chamber has most likely been there since the founding of Hogwarts, and thankfully, it has been neutralized as a threat to the students.”

“And how does Malfoy’s diary figure into this?”

“The diary belonged to Tom Marvolo Riddle, who left both a memory and a set of unspeakably dark enchantments to control its possessor into opening the Chamber. Tom Riddle framed Hagrid for his own crimes, a  _ modus operandi  _  that he repeated multiple times before his attempt to usurp the Ministry two decades ago.”

It took all of a minute for the Board and Wizengamot to realize what he was saying. Dumbledore decided to change the subject back to the reason they were holding the hearing. 

“Now, before we become too embroiled in a tangent, I believe we should finish this hearing.”

“You’re right. With overwhelming evidence, this court hereby overrules the expulsion of Rubeus Heracle Hagrid, and grants him the right to practice magic and carry a wand once again.” Madam Bones stated, and the court adjourned.

Hagrid quickly broke into jubilant tears, and it took all of Dumbledore’s power to steer him out of the courtroom. 

By Monday, Hagrid had a true wand of his own, oak and unicorn hair, eighteen inches, and could be found reading several textbooks from multiple subjects, particularly Charms and Care of Magical Creatures.


	19. Raiding the Chamber

_ November 21, 1992 _

A week after the shocking arrest and imprisonment of Lucius Malfoy and the reinstatement of Hagrid as a wizard, things had more or less gone back to normal. There had been some distinct changes, however. Draco Malfoy had become a pariah for the other students, and not even the other Slytherin’s seemed to want to associate with him,aside from Crabbe and Goyle, who likely didn’t realize why none of their friends wanted to talk to them anymore. Without Lucius on the Board of Governors, Dumbledore was able to convince them to purchase the Mandrake Draught from the Southern Hemisphere, while promising reimbursement from the Hogwarts crop. Ginny had been rather shell-shocked from being under the diary’s influence, but Colin and Leonis were sticking to her like glue, and she seemed to be recovering from the ordeal.

After breakfast on Saturday, Danny told his friends his plan for the day. 

“Harry and I are the first people in fifty years to be able to access the Chamber of Secrets. As such, it is only right that we uncover all everything hidden down there. So who’s with me?”

It took some convincing, but by ten o’clock, Danny was leading Harry, Ron, and Hermione back down into the Chamber of Secrets. 

Sciath had disappeared into the pipes, muttering something about going fishing, leaving the four to explore the chamber. 

“ _ Lumos Solem! _ ” Danny hung the miniature sun in the center of the chamber, where it illuminated the ancient stonework. 

“ _ /Reveal your secrets./ _ ” Danny hissed. There were several grinding sounds, like gears that had not turned in a millennia finally working. The stone snake heads that lined the chamber lowered to the ground, and drew back into the walls, until the snakes’ mouths were the only thing visible, at which point their tongues receded into their lower jaws, revealing passageways concealed behind them. 

“Shall we?” Danny said, holding his already lit wand aloft.

“Let’s start with the one closest to the entrance, and work our way down from there.” Harry suggested. Hermione agreed.

The first passage led to a set of dormitories, stacked floor to ceiling with beds. 

“Either Slytherin wanted to house students separate from the rest of the school, or he intended this as a sanctuary of some kind.” Hermione noted. 

“Well, it looks like it was barely used at all,” said Harry. “Let’s check out the next one.”

The room opposite was identical. They got the impression that one of them was for boys and one was for girls, like the Houses did in their respective towers and dungeons.

The third room they found was different, and had Ron dropping his jaw in shock. 

The room was filled to the brim with gold and jewels. The light of their wands glittered across mounds of ingots of precious metals. Gold, silver, copper, even platinum. 

“ _ Malefic Revelio, _ ” Hermione cast. A soft blue light shone from her wand, sweeping over the piles of metals and crystals. None of it reacted.

“Nothing here is cursed at least.” 

“Make a note of it. We should check to see if anyone already lays claim to this stuff. If not, well, Christmas is coming up soon.”

They had to physically drag Ron out of the vault and to the next room, where it was Hermione’s turn to gape. Bookshelves lined the room from floor to ceiling, leaving not an inch of actual wall visible. Hermione pulled the first book she touched off the shelf, and opened it.

“I-I can’t read this.” She stammered in shock. The text was not in any recognizable language, instead being a series of serpentine scratches.

“Let me see.” Danny looked at the book. “Huh, looks like all of Salazar Slytherin’s books were written in parseltongue.” He read through part of the text. “Woah, those are some powerful shield charms.”

The room they found after the library was a study. The furniture there was made of rich, dark wood, with stiff green cushions on the chair. Hanging from the wall, framed in gold, was a wizard portrait. The portrait depicted a tall, bald man with a sharp white beard. He had sharp features, and gleaming dark violet eyes. He was wearing a finely-made green robe, and hanging from his neck was a gold locket with an ‘S’ made of emeralds.

“ _ /Are you a Speaker?/ _ ” The portrait of Salazar Slytherin hissed.

“/Yes,/” Harry and Danny hissed back. “ _ /We are Speakers./ _ ”

“ _ /May I know who has finally found my Chamber?/ _ ” The portrait asked.

“ _ /My name is Danny Fenton, this is my cousin, Harry Potter. The non-speakers with us are Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger./ _ ”

“ _ /What year is it?/ _ ” Salazar asked next.

“ _ /Nineteen ninety-two, November./ _ ” Harry answered.

“ _ /Almost a thousand years since my portrait was first placed here. Tell me, what has happened to the Gaunts?/ _ ” 

“ _ /The last Gaunt is a wraith hiding in the Balkans. He has claimed to be your heir, and placed the basilisk of the Chamber under his control when he was at Hogwarts fifty years ago./ _ ” Harry said. The portrait’s features twisted in rage.

“/THAT BASTARD TOOK MY SCIATH! I WOULD RIP HIS SMOKE TO ASH AND CURSE WHATEVER REMAINS!/”

Hermione and Ron quietly slipped out of the room, not wanting to be caught in whatever the founder’s portrait was shrieking about.

Danny stepped up and snapped his fingers, a green flame appearing in his hand. “/I broke Tom Riddle’s hold over Sciath. She was being used to attack Muggle-born students in your name./”

“ _ /So, that is my legacy? The one who hated Magbobs? While I was wary of Muggles, I did not hate those born of them, I wanted to have them removed to wizarding families, so that never would there be another Obscurial in Britannia, or see those children die for the crime of having something that was not understood, and thus feared./ _ ”

“ _ /There hasn’t been an Obscurial in Britain since the wizard world went into hiding almost three centuries ago./ _ ”

“ _ /That is good. Now, You have told me your names, but I do not recognize them. If you could explain?/ _ ”

“ _ /The Potters have been around since the twelfth century. Hardwin Potter married the last descendant of the Peverells -/ _ ”

“ _ /Peverell? I thought so, my heirs./ _ ”

“ _ /You’re related to the Peverells?/ _ ” Danny blurted out.

“ _ /Yes, my daughter married Anwir Peverell, and so every Peverell since is my heir./ _ ”

“ _ /Thank you for telling us that. Is there particular way you want us to address you?/ _ ”

“ _ /Salazar is fine. It has been almost a millennia since I have been a Professor./ _ ” 

“ _ /All right, Professor Slytherin./ _ ” Salazar smirked at his cheek as they left the study.

The next room they explored was a fully stocked armory. Ancient battlestaffs hung alongside spears and halberds, while swords lined another. The centerpiece of the collection was a sheathed dagger, its resting place under a glowing emerald. Harry picked it up, and unsheathed it. The dagger was covered in intricate runes that gleamed like circuitry in the emerald light. The guard and hilt were shaped like a pair of serpents, with a large emerald set in the pommel.

“Why would Slytherin make a dagger the centerpiece of his armory?” Hermione asked. She got her answer when Harry hissed something in parseltongue, and the blade lengthened to that of a sword.

“That’s why.” Ron told her.

On the last passageway, they came to what looked like a blank wall, the only decoration a faded glyph. Danny placed his hand against the wall over the glyph, and could  _ feel _ the magic behind it.

Danny glared at the wall, but it did nothing, as walls usually do.

With the last room remaining a mystery, the party of four made their way back to the central chamber, where they stood under the gaze of the monkey-faced statue.

“You know, that doesn’t look at all like his portrait.” Ron observed.

Danny’s eyes glowed green as an epiphany came over him. He brandished his wand at the statue, wind whipping around him and forcing the others to step back.

“ _ BOMBARDA MAXIMA! _ ” 

A lance of blinding white struck the statue dead-center, blasting out its nose. Massive cracks radiated from the point of impact like a spiderweb, before the stone artifice crumbled away like an avalanche.

Where the monkey-faced statue had been, another stood in its place. This one was of polished granite, and radiated power. The true statue had a face more like the Salazar of his portrait, only it wasn’t depicting Salazar. The figure depicted by the statue was female, with long braided hair that draped over her shoulders. Around her neck was a locket like Salazar’s, where the other statue’s mouth had been. 

Danny couldn’t place it, but the statue looked familiar.

It was almost dinnertime when the quartet emerged from the Chamber of Secrets. They had just enough time to wash off the grime of a thousand years before settling in for the evening. 


	20. Christmas Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Minor Character Death

_ December 17, 1992 _

In yet another move to stoke his own ego, Lockhart proposed a Dueling Club for the students. Danny was sure it was just a way for him to show off his nonexistent mastery of magic.

At eight o’clock on the third Thursday of December, the first and second years gathered in the Great Hall, which had been redecorated for the occasion. Hogwarts had a dueling hall, but clearly it did not fit the exacting standards of a celebrity monster hunter like Lockhart. 

“I wonder who’ll be teaching us?” Hermione said as the quartet edged into the crowd. “Someone told me Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young - maybe it’ll be him.”

“Sadly, I don’t think he was the one picked.” Danny bemoaned. It was well known that Professor Flitwick had been a fourteen-time International Dueling Champion. Even Lockhart would be aware of that prestige, and would have avoided anyone who could upstage him. It was for this reason that a wide grin broke out on Danny’s face when Lockhart stepped onto the stage, followed by the vampiric visage of Professor Snape. During one of the quartet’s Saturday talks with Hagrid, he had mentioned that Snape had apparently spent his fifth through seventh years at Hogwarts creating his own spells, including one that had left a permanent scar on James Potter’s cheek. 

Bringing his attention back to the present, Danny heard as Lockhart stoked his own ego.

“Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can everyone hear me? Excellent!

“Now, Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions - for full details, see my published works.” He gave one of his ‘winning’ grins.

“Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape,” Lockhart flashed another wide smile. “He tells me he knows a little bit about dueling himself, and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now, I don’t want any of you youngsters to worry - you’ll still have your Potions master when I’m through with him, never fear!”

“Wouldn’t it be good if they finished each other off?” Ron muttered in Harry’s ear.

Snape’s upper lip was curling. Danny smiled at Lockhart’s obliviousness to his impending doom.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed, as was typical for a formal duel; at least Lockhart was bowing, giving as much theatrical twirling of his hands as possible, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably, which would have only just barely been permitted in a formal duel. The two wizards raised their wands like rapiers in front of them. 

“As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combat position.” Lockhart told the silent crowd. Danny had to admit that he apparently knew his etiquette. “On the count of three, we cast our first spells. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Harry murmured, watching Snape bare his teeth in a silent snarl.

“One - two - three -”

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ”

Snape cast first, a dazzling scarlet lance flying from his wand and striking the Defense Professor in the chest. His wand flew from his hand and spun into the crowd while Lockhart was thrown bodily down the length of the platform, tumbling off the stage and sliding to a sprawl on the floor.

The Slytherin’s cheered while the girls were on tiptoes trying to get a good look.

“Encore! Encore!” Danny shouted.

“Do you think he’s all right?” Hermione squealed.

“Who cares?” Harry, Ron, and Danny all said together.

Lockhart got unsteadily to his feet. His hat had been thrown off by the impact, and his wavy hair was standing on end as though he had gotten too close to a Van Der-Graaf generator. Danny’s respect for the Potions Master went up just a hair.

“Well, there you have it!” Apparently, Lockhart possessed the ability to make light of such humiliation. “That was a Disarming Charm - as you see, I’ve lost my wand - ah, thank you miss Brown - yes, an excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape,but if you don’t mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy - however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…”

Snape was looking positively murderous. Lockhart only just noticed the glare that had reduced many a student to tears, because he said, “Enough demonstrating! I’m going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you’d like to help me -”

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville with Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Snape reached the quartet first. 

“Time to split up the dream team, I think,” he sneered. “Weasley, you can partner with Finnigan. Potter -”

Harry automatically moved toward Danny.

“I don’t think so,” said Snape, smiling coldly. “Mr Potter, you can partner with Miss Bones. Mr Malfoy, come over here. Let’s see what you make of Fenton. And you, Miss Granger - you can partner with Miss Runcorn.”

Malfoy strutted over, smirking. Behind him walked a rather athletic-looking Slytherin girl who looked like the daughter of a drill sergeant. She had a strong jaw that and curly hair that was cropped short. He did not like the look in her eye. Hermione gave her a weak smile that she did not reciprocate.

“Face your partners!” called Lockhart, back on the platform. “And bow!”

Harry and Susan bowed formally, Danny and Malfoy far less so, more akin to Snape’s head jerk.

“Wands at the ready!” commanded Lockhart. “When I count to three, cast your charms to disarm your opponent -  _ only _ to disarm them - we don’t want any accidents - one… two… three -”

Malfoy, lacking in sportsmanship, as his tactics on the pitch had showed, had started on “two”: Danny had to dash to the side to dodge whatever jinx he had thrown. While Malfoy was surprised by Danny’s reflexes, the ice-eyed wizard pointed his wand strait at the blonde Slytherin.

“ _ Obscuro! _ ” He shouted. The invisible bolt caught Malfoy in the face, wrapping a blindfold over his eyes and sending into a fit of swearing.

“ _ I said disarm only! _ ” Lockhart shouted in alarm, but it fell on deaf ears.

“ _ Locomotor Wibbly! _ ” The wildly cast jinx caught Danny unaware, and he fell to ground as he felt his legs give out under him, like the bones had turned to goo.

For some reason, that thought was seriously disturbing to him.

“ _ Forte Sonorus! _ ” Harry aimed in the still-blinded Malfoy’s direction, the sound of the cannonblast charm making him flop to the ground to dodge the nonexistent projectile.

“Stop! Stop!” Lockhart shouted, having quickly lost control of the situation, requiring Snape to take charge.

“ _ Finite Incantatem! _ ” he bellowed; Danny’s legs regained solidity, the blindfold dissolved from Malfoy’s face, and they were able to look up.

The scene was covered with a haze of greenish smoke that smelled like rotten eggs. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor, panting; Ron was holding up an ashen-faced Seamus, who had clearly had another burst of pyrotechnic magic; Hermione was still dueling Runcorn, the latter of whom was clutching her stomach while seething at the bushy-haired Gryffindor. Harry and Susan were still moving, at least until Susan caught him with a spell that caused his robes to bind him like an Egyptian mummy.

“Hey, that was a Clothes-Tangling Jinx!” Ron shouted.

“My aunt told me your dad used it on Lucius Malfoy.” Susan explained. Ron smiled at the thought.

“Dear, dear,” Lockhart tutted as he skittered through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. “Up you go, Macmillan…. Careful there, Miss Fawcett…. Pinch it hard, it’ll stop bleeding in a second, Boot -

“I think I’d better teach you how to block unfriendly spells,” Lockhart finally said, standing flustered in the middle of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted maliciously, and looked quickly away. “Let’s have a volunteer pair - Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you -”

“A bad idea, Professor Lockhart,” Snape glided over like a giant, malevolent bat. “Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest spells. We’ll be sending what’s left of Finch-Fletchley up to the hospital wing in a matchbox.” Neville’s round, pink face went pinker. “How about we give Malfoy and Fenton another chance?” said Snape with a twisted smile.

“Excellent idea!” said Lockhart, gesturing Danny and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd parted to give them room.

“Now, Danny,” said Lockhart. “When Draco points his wand at you, do  _ this _ .”

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and promptly dropped it halfway through. Snape gave one of his now signature smirks at his misfortune as Lockhart picked it back up.

“Whoops- my wand is a little over excited-”

“I can do the basic shield charm, you know.” Danny growled, and Lockhart backed away.

Snape moved closer to Malfoy, bent down, and whispered something in his ear. Malfoy smirked. That did not bode well  for Danny. Danny gripped his wand tighter.

“Scared, skunkhead?” Malfoy sneered, noticing the action.

“You wish,” muttered Danny, raising his wand like sword. 

“Three - two - one - go!” Lockhart shouted.

Whatever Danny had been expecting, it was not what happened.

“ _ Serpensortia! _ ” Malfoy bellowed, his wand pointed at Danny’s face.

A sound like a gunshot rang out, and a long serpent came flying out of the end of his wand. Danny didn’t have time to think, he just reacted.

“ _ Lapifors! _ ” Danny shouted. The snake was caught in a puff of smoke, and a rabbit flew out, bowling Danny over. It opened it’s mouth wide, revealing a set of snake fangs. In his haste to cast, the transformation was not complete.

“ _ /Get off me, you Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog!/ _ ” The snake-rabbit obliged, and promptly shot like a missile into Lockhart’s gut, sending him over the edge of the platform again, before bouncing and doing the same to Malfoy, and leaping at Danny, still on the attack.

“ _ Confringo! _ ” The monstrous hare was engulfed in a fireball, reducing it to ash.

All eyes turned to Harry, whose wand was giving off a faint wisp of smoke. 

“What, I didn’t have a Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch to throw at it!” Harry shrugged.

Several of the muggleborn and half-blood students started laughing. Danny stood up, rolling the shoulder he had landed on. The laughter quickly stopped, and everyone gave him suspicious looks.

“I just spoke Parseltongue, didn’t I?”

Ron gave a nervous nod. Danny turned to the crowd.

“For Merlin’s sake, I thought we were already over this whole ‘Heir of Slytherin’ nonsense. Well, newsflash! It was myself and Harry who  _ found _ the Chamber that not even  _ Dumbledore _ could find, and neutralized the monster.” Danny told them, an incredulous look on his face. “And Parseltongue in and of itself isn’t evil.”

“Then name one Parselmouth who wasn’t a Dark Wizard!” Someone shouted.

“I can name at least three: Aisling Peverell, Paracelsus, and Isolt Sayre, two of whom were descended from Slytherin.”

That effectively shut them up. 

 

_ December 25, 1992 _

Harry Potter was woken up on Christmas by a rather energetic House Elf. After he put on his glasses, he realized who it was.

“Dobby, what are you doing here?” He asked. “You’re not going to try and convince me to leave Hogwarts, are you?” The next bed over, Danny began to stir.

“No, no, sir. Dobby is a free elf now. Bad old master gave Dobby clothes when bad old master was arrested.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Bad old master’s cloak was hit by the jinx that makes clothes turn on their wearers,” Dobby explained. “Bad old master threw off the cloak, and Dobby caught it. Now Dobby is a free elf!”

“Then why are you here?” Harry asked.

“Harry Potter is a friend to House Elfs, and Danny Fenton is the Great One. Dobby would like to serve Harry Potter and the Great One.” Dobby admitted.

“O-Kay. You can work for us,” said Harry. “But I would never hear the end of it from Hermione if you weren’t being compensated for it. For working for me and Danny, I will pay you… one galleon a week. Does that sound fair?”

“Master Harry Potter sir is too kind,” Dobby said, tears in his eyes. “Dobby will do his best to serve Harry Potter and the Great One!” And with that, Dobby popped away.

“Well, that was surreal.” Harry said to no one. Of course, Danny woke up just in time to hear his remark.

“What was surreal?” The aforementioned ‘Great One’ asked.

“Remember that House Elf who showed up on my birthday? Apparently he wanted to work for us now that his old master freed him.”

“What did you do?” Danny’s sleep-clouded eyes narrowed.

“I couldn’t just say no -”

“What did you do?”

“I hired him for a galleon a week.” Danny’s expression softened.

“Okay then, at least Hermione won’t get on our case when she finds out.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

The two then looked around their dormitories. Aside from Ron, who was still sleeping, they were the only ones in the room. Dean, Seamus, and Neville had all gone home for the break, while Hermione was the only second year girl in Gryffindor to stay for the holidays.Their gaze then shifted to the stacks of presents at the foot of their beds. 

“You know, I think we should take these down to the common room to open.” Harry suggested.

“You wake up Ron, I’ll care them down,” said Danny, brandishing his wand.

When they got to the common room, they found that the Weasleys had already set up there, along with Hermione and Leonis, who was sitting with Ginny. They all had steaming mugs of hot chocolate, and the twins were passing the time with a game of Exploding Snap, which Percy had thankfully put a silencing charm over, much to the twins’ disappointment and annoyance.

It was a surprise for the cousins when they saw that Jazz was in their common room, reading a book.

“There you are. I was just about to go up and wake you up myself.” the eldest fenton sibling said. She then held out a gift-wrapped present. “Happy Christmas, little bros.”

Jazz’s gift turned out to be a book written by Paracelsus, which no one had been able to decipher because it was written in Parseltongue. Skimming through the book, the Parselmouth cousins found it to be a rather enlightening text on the magic that could be performed with Parseltongue. 

The rest of their Christmas presents were just as satisfactory. Hagrid had them each a large tin of treacle fudge, which had unfortunately frozen, and so was sitting by the fire to soften; Ron got Harry a book titled  _ Flying With the Cannons _ , a comprehensive text about the red-head’s favorite Quidditch team and for Danny he had gotten book on astronomy, while Hermione had bought luxury eagle-feather quills for all three of them.

Jack and Maddie had sent them each a book on the spirits of Britain, and a tin of chocolate fudge biscuits, respectively.

From Mrs Weasley, hand-knit sweaters were given to all. Harry’s was scarlet, Danny’s was midnight black, Hermione’s was a soft burgundy, Ron once again got maroon, the twins once again wore blue, while Percy had received one in a sunset yellow. Ginny was wearing her pink sweater, while Leonis had gotten one in a soft, silvery gray that reminded Danny of Harry’s Invisibility Cloak. He figured it matched the first-year’s eyes. Even Jazz had gotten one, and Danny had to wonder if she was knitting so many because all of her children were either at Hogwarts or out of the country. Jazz was now wearing a bright turquoise sweater with her initial on it. 

When Harry opened the last gift in his stack, the gift wrap gave him a papercut. The gift turned out to be from Ginny, and was another broom maintenance kit for his Nimbus 2000. While Harry was thanking Ginny for the present, his hand, the one that had the papercut, ended up resting on what looked like a spare bit of parchment on the table.

At least, it looked like a spare bit of parchment until a drop of Harry’s blood came into contact with it, at which point text and drawings became visible on it. Danny noticed first, followed by the Twins, who looked all manners of shocked. Harry picked up the parchment, and read the text on the front.

“Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present… The Marauder’s Map.”

The Twins looked flabbergasted.

“How did you crack the enchantments!?” The leapt up and shouted simultaneously. 

“And Mr Prongs would like to say: Hello to whatever descendant of mine has claimed the map, although I personally protested the use of a Blood Seal, but Mr. Padfoot suggested it as a way to allow the map to be used without giving away the passphrase.”

“You’re the son of a Marauder!” one of the Twins exclaimed. 

“What is this? And how do you know so much about it?” Harry demanded.

“This, our dear Harrikins, is the secret to our success,” said George.

“Nicked it from Filch’s office first year,” chimed in Fred.

“It took us weeks to find the right passphrases to open and close it.” George stated.

Harry unfolded the parchment, revealing an exquisitely detailed map of Hogwarts, which also labelled every room in the castle. Harry noticed numerous dots moving around on the map, each one with a tiny name scrawled next to it. He could see two dots marked  _ ‘Albus Dumbledore’ _ and  _ ‘Fawkes’ _ in the Headmaster’s office, and even  _ ‘Severus Snape’ _ lurking in the Dungeons. He looked at Gryffindor tower, and dots with all of their names in the common room. Then he looked just couple floors above, and gasped.

“Guys, we have an intruder in the second year boy’s dorms. ‘Peter Pettigrew’, do you know who that is?” 

“No idea, never seen him on the map before.” George admitted. 

“If there’s an intruder, it is the duty of the Prefects to report it to McGonagall.” Percy reminded them of his presence.

“You do that, while we check it out.” Danny said, drawing his wand.

While Percy ran to McGonagall’s office, the rest of them climbed the stairs and entered the dorm room.

“Alright Peter, show yourself and we might show mercy!” Danny announced, before looking around the room.

“Are you sure that map is right? There’s nothing here.” Jazz said. Harry looked irritated for a moment before walking to where he was seeing Peter Pettigrew. He stopped when his shins hit Ron’s bed, and he looked at what was sitting on it.

Ron’s pet rat, Scabbers.

“ _ Homenum Revelio. _ ” Jazz pointed her wand at the rat, which glowed yellow. The rat woke up, and looked frightfully at the party. 

“ _ Stupefy! _ ” Jazz shot with the reflexes of a duelist, the jet of scarlet caught the not-rat square in the chest, and it fell unconscious.

George levitated the rat as they moved back down to the common room, where Percy had just arrived via the fireplace with Professor McGonagall, who looked particularly stern, despite being in a nightgown and cap. 

“If this is a prank, it is not funny.” She stated as she saw the party of ten and a floating, unconscious rat. 

“I assure, we may joke about a lot of things, but something that threatens the school is not one of them,” said George, who set the rat down on the floor.

“He responded to the Human-revealing Spell, Professor.” At this, McGonagall’s eyes widened, and she drew her own wand. 

“ _ Animagae Revelio. _ ” Scabbers glowed  _ red alert _ crimson.

“ _ Homorpho! _ ” 

A head shot upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting like tree limbs; a moment later, a man was laying there, still unconscious. He was a very short man, not even as tall as Jazz. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. His face was distinctly rat-like, with a pointed nose and small mouth. 

Danny felt that familiar presence in his mind, and he could feel the magic around him. His smouldering green eyes locked on the man’s forearm.

“ _ Panno Diffindo. _ ” The Severing Charm sliced the sleeve of the man’s robe off at the elbow. McGonagall twisted the arm, and gasped.

On the inside of the man’s forearm was a scar like a brand. A skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth. Danny could feel the faintest signature of  _ Gaunt _ on the mark, and he snarled.

His snarl went unheard, however, as McGonagall chose that moment to let her temper get the better of her, driving a foot into the man’s ribs with a sickening crack.

“This goes far above my station.” McGonagall composed herself. She turned back to the fireplace and tossed in another pinch of of floo powder. “Headmaster’s office.” She spoke clearly, before sticking her head in the now green flames.

As she talked, Ron’s stomach chose that moment to evacuate itself, while Percy looked rather queasy.

“I let him sleep in my  _ bed _ ,” Ron said, disgusted.

Dumbledore tumbled out of the fireplace a couple minutes later, followed by Professor Flitwick. The two teachers carried the still unconscious Death Eater out of the room, whispered mutterings shared between the adults while the children looked on in various states of bewilderment.

 

~~AWS~~

 

It was almost an hour later when Professor McGonagall returned to the Gryffindor common room. 

“What’s going on? What happened to Scabbers?” Ginny asked.

“Quiet, Miss Weasley, and I will explain.” McGonagall replied, now in her normal green robes.

“Scabbers was an unregistered Animagus by the name of Peter Pettigrew. He was a friend of your parents, Mr Potter. He had been assumed dead for the last eleven years, after he confronted Sirius Black about betraying the Potters to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was believed by everyone, including myself, that Black had been the Secret Keeper for where the Potters were hiding. Witnesses reported Black confronting Pettigrew and blowing up the street, killing Pettigrew and twelve Muggles. The only thing they found of Pettigrew was a finger, and Black was sent to Azkaban. However, the fact that Pettigrew was found alive and bearing the Dark Mark, throws the entire story into doubt. Director Bones of the DMLE had Pettigrew interrogated with Veritaserum. Pettigrew revealed that he had been the Potters’ Secret Keeper, and had sold them out to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and he caused the explosion that killed the twelve Muggles, cutting off his own finger and hiding while Black took the fall for it.”

Harry’s fist was clenched hard enough to draw blood. The person responsible for his parent’s deaths had been hiding in the family of his best friend for over a decade while an innocent man rotted in Hell on Earth. 

“Is that all?” Harry asked between clenched teeth.

“No, I’m afraid it gets worse. You see, Mr Potter, Sirius Black was also a close friend of your parents, and he was appointed as your godfather.”

A window cracked.

“How did no one figure it out? Wouldn’t that have come out during his trial/” Danny asked, a sinking feeling in his gut as to what the answer would be.

“Sirius Black never received a trial. Barty Crouch was head of the DMLE at the time, and had him sent to Azkaban without him even seeing a courtroom. And not a week later his own son was found to be a Death Eater. It would take a miracle for Crouch to keep his job, even as it is.”

“So, what now?” Hermione asked.

“The headmaster is pushing for a trial immediately, however, given it is the holidays, it may take a week before Black can be cleared, and even then, he will likely be in St Mungo’s for the next few months. But rest assured, Dumbledore is working his hardest to see justice done.”

The rest of the afternoon went smoothly, and supper was a little bit quieter than last year. Dumbledore was not at the Head Table, but Flitwick provided the holiday cheer in the form of carols, accompanied by Hagrid’s booming voice. Hermione got to experience the surprise that was the wizarding world’s Christmas cracker. She was in for a shock when a live partridge flew from hers along with several pears. A good laugh was had by all.

 

_ December 31, 1992 _

The next Thursday, the Daily Prophet reported that Sirius Black had been exonerated and was recovering from his time in Azkaban at St Mungo’s, while Pettigrew had been given Black’s cell, which had been modified with Anti-Animagus Wards. Barty Crouch had lost a lot of his credibility, and was only keeping his position as Head of the Department of International Cooperation out of sheer stubbornness. However, it wasn’t all sunshine and daisies. Leonis had gotten a letter that morning in an ominous black envelope, and broke down in tears when he read it.

As Colin lead him back to Gryffindor Tower, Ginny picked up the letter.

“Oh,” was she said, before racing off after her friends. The letter drifted through the air before landing at Danny’s feet. He picked it up, and read it.

_ Dear Mr Black _

_ It is our sad duty to inform you that at 5:30 this morning, Mrs Isabella Smith passed away from injuries caused by a Potions Accident. The funeral will be closed casket and held on the 2nd of January, 1993 _

_ We are terribly sorry for your loss, and as Mrs Smith’s only living relative, you are required to appear at Gringotts on the 30th of January, 1993 for the reading of Mrs Smith’s Last Will and Testament. If transportation cannot be arranged, the Ministry is willing to provide transport. _

_ Sorry for your loss, _

_ Hadrian Grim, Department of Advocates to the Wizarding World. _


	21. Duelling for Fun and Honour

_ January 7, 1993 _

The term had started on a high note for Harry, who had finally figured out how to get Snape to ignore him in Potions. Harry had figured that Snape despised him for his resemblance to his father, so Harry had used his Metamorphmagus talent to make him almost unrecognizable. During Potions, Harry would make his hair short and brown, allowing his scar to be visible. His eyes he made purple, because Occlumens have an instinctive aversion to looking a natural Legilimens in the eye. The only things that identified him as Harry Potter were the lightning-bolt scar, and his wire-framed glasses. 

Now, he was in his natural appearance, and dueling Susan Bones once again. Despite the incident in the first Dueling Club meeting, Lockhart had decided to keep it going, despite having to get the aid of teachers other than Snape. This week, Professor Vector was overseeing the matches. The combatants had been paired up and were dueling in large rings that had been set up in the Great Hall.

“ _ Impedimenta! _ ” Harry cast, Susan blocked and retaliated.

“ _ Flipendo! _ ” Harry caught the knockback jinx in the shoulder and spun with the motion of being thrown back so that he could counter-attack.

“ _ Scourgify! _ ” Susan lost her footing as the ground she was standing on became coated in a soap slick.

“ _ Colloshoo! _ ” The Stickfast Hex locked Harry’s feet to the ground, throwing off his balance.

“ _ Lacarnum Inflamarae! _ ” A stream of blue fire spouted from Harry’s wand, and Susan instinctively went on the defensive.

“ _ Expelliarmus! _ ” Susan’s wand went flying into Harry’s hand. 

“Clever, Harry. That makes one point to my five.” Susan said. Harry unstuck his shoes and helped her up. 

“Yeah, well, you and Danny are the only ones who seem to be able to counter me like that.” Harry said as he tossed her wand back to her. “Another round?”

“Bring it, Potter.” The Hufflepuff challenged. “ _ Flipendo! _ ”

“ _ Protego! Stupefy! _ ” Harry blocked and promptly sent a stunner her way. She blocked, and the game continued.

In a separate Dueling Ring, Danny was dueling Ginny, who had some serious skill when it came to dueling. The Bat-Bogey Hex had come out of nowhere and left him covering his face as the mutant mucus scratched at his face. He had retaliated with a freezing charm that sent her feet slipping out from under her.

Their attention was drawn, however, to another ring, where no less than five third years were toying with a first year Ravenclaw. It took a second for Danny to realize that it was Luna who was being harassed, and both he and Ginny left their ring to help Luna. 

It turned out to be unnecessary, however, as another redhead got to her side first.

“Leave her alone.” Jazz Fenton growled.

“Oh really, what’re you going to do? Hex us?” One of the bullies taunted unimaginatively.

A flick of her wand and the taunter was suspended in midair by his ankle. Another flick, and he was flying out of the circle.

The other four looked at the form of their companion, who had slammed into the tables against the wall.

Jazz’s turquoise eyes were burning with righteous anger. The remaining four all cast.

“ _ Protego! Novis Patella! Ictus! Locomotor Wibbly! Ventus! Epoximise! _ ” The chain of spells that flew from her wand caught the bullies completely off guard. One of them fell over with his knees reversed, another clutched her face where the Stinging Jinx caught her in the nose, while the last two were bowled over and then stuck together by their robes.

The one who had been thrown from the ring got his wits about him, and snarled out a puke green curse aimed at Jazz’s back. 

Danny leapt in the path of the curse.

“ _ Protego! _ ” He blocked. “ _ Expulso! _ ” He shouted. The blue-white blasting curse slammed into the bully and drove him through the table behind him. 

“What is going on here?” Professor Vector demanded, the crowd parting as she walked.

“These five,” Jazz gestured to the incapacitated bullies. “Have been spending all of last term and this term harassing Luna. All eyes turned to Luna. The girl with sandy-blonde hair was currently barefoot, and her wide blue eyes were weighed down with bags.

“It’s alright.” Luna mumbled, Jazz didn’t believe her for a second.

“No, it’s not alright.” She snapped. “Those five have been picking on you, and someone had to do something.”

“And now I feel rotten.” Ginny muttered next to Danny, who turned to look at her. She noticed that he had heard, and elaborated.

“We used to be close friends before Hogwarts, since she was the only other witch my age in the area. Then we got sorted into different Houses, and we don’t have many classes together, and then that diary happened, and I was spending more time with Leonis and Colin. I’m a bad friend.” She sighed.

“Well, there’s no time like to present to make it up.” Danny advised. Ginny’s eyes lit up, and she ran after Jazz and Luna. A small smile ghosted across Danny’s face.

 

_ January 30, 1993 _

Leonis Black sat uncomfortably in his formal robes, fighting back tears. As his Head of House, Professor McGonagall escorted him to Gringotts on the last Saturday of the month. He was currently sitting in a small conference room, Professor McGonagall in the seat next to him. At precisely eleven, a goblin dressed in what was most likely formal wear stepped into the room, a roll of parchment in his hand. The goblin spoke.

“I am Viscot, member of the Department for Inheritance and Bequeathments at Gringotts Bank, Main Branch, London England. You have been called here as the sole beneficiary for the Last Will and Testament of Isabella Smith-Black, dated November Thirtieth, Nineteen Ninety-Three. Professor Minerva McGonagall, you are here as representative of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, in your capacity as Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. Do you have any questions?” 

Leonis shook his head, not trusting his own voice.

“Very well then,” Viscot said promptly. He unfurled the parchment, and read it out.

“I, Isabella Doreen Smith-Black, being of sound mind and body, do bequeath all of my worldly possessions to my only son, Leonis Regulus Black. I also bequeath a box given to me by your father, which only you can unlock. I do not know what is contained within the box, only that your father wanted you to have it. His exact words were: ‘If ever you hear what they have to say about me, look in the box for the truth.’

Should I die before Leonis reaches his age of majority, I request that Hogwarts take him in, as they took me in all those years ago.

To Leonis, I leave one last message: Remember, it is not our heritage that determines who we are, but our choices. Your father was a brave man, and if you grow up to be half the man he was, I will have succeeded as a parent.”

The goblin snapped his fingers, and two more goblins entered, both carrying boxes. One was small and looked plain, while the other was the size of a shoebox and covered in intricate runes with a metal lock. Viscot took the smaller box, and opened it, drawing out something small, which he gave to Leonis.

“Your vault key. Your mother transferred ownership of her Gringotts vault to you, on a stipend of one hundred galleons a year until your seventeenth birthday.” Viscot gave him the vault key, a plain gold key with the vault number - 511 - engraved on one end. 

Viscot then took the larger and more intricate-looking box, and held it out for him. Leonis took with a grateful “Thank you”. He looked over the box, which was more of a chest upon closer inspection. A small placard was bolted to the lid.

PROPERTY OF REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK

Leonis touched the lock, but quickly withdrew his hand, which felt like it had been stung. The lock glowed red for a moment, then the cache released, allowing the box to be opened. 

Inside the box was a sheaf of parchments. Leonis picked up the parchment on top to read.

_ Kreacher has just returned, almost dead. I asked him what had been done to him, and he told me of a cave the Dark Lord had hidden a locket in. My research into how he could have attained his vaunted immortality has finally borne fruit.  _

_ As I write this, I have no doubts that will not survive this mission, but I must do whatever it takes to stop the Dark Lord. Merely foiling his followers and warning his enemies is not enough. It is time for this serpent to strike. _

_ History will undoubtedly remember me as a villain, but I undertake this task knowing that I made the right choice. Dumbledore always said that we have a choice. We can do what is right, or what is easy. What is right is stopping the Dark Lord. _

_ R. A. B. _

The rest of the notes told a story in reverse. Of a man who had made a wrong choice and spent the rest of his life trying to make it right. The notes carried two revelations that made Leonis’ heart drop to his stomach.

His father was a Death Eater.

His father had been a double agent, and no one had known, even after he had died.

Leonis didn’t even realise the tears streaming down his face until Professor McGonagall gave him a handkerchief. 

“Thank you, Viscot.” Leonis told the goblin, who looked just the tiniest bit flattered.

Once he had composed himself, he and McGonagall left Gringotts to return to Hogwarts by Floo. 

 

_ January 31, 1993 _

It had taken Dumbledore nearly a month to free up the afternoon. When he wasn’t dealing with the running of Hogwarts and teaching his seminars on Alchemy, he was either fulfilling his duties as Chief Warlock, or else serving his role as Supreme Mugwump. While being able to resolve disputes amicably was a task he enjoyed doing, it certainly took up a great deal of his time.

Today, however, he was able to make time to visit St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and visit a man to whom he owed a sincerest apology. 

He may have only been made Chief Warlock in 1985, but that was no excuse not to push for a trial for Sirius Black. 

Just one of the many things that weighed on his conscious. 

He was one-hundred and eleven years old, and wizards twice his age had less to feel guilt over. 

He arrived on the first floor, and made his way to the Eldritch Diggory Ward. While the major ward on the first floor was named after the Quidditch player Dai Llewellyn, who had been eaten by a chimera, the Eldritch Diggory Ward was named after the Minister for Magic who had campaigned to remove the Dementors from Azkaban. As such, his name was used for the ward that treated Dementor exposure, particularly those who had recently been removed from Azkaban.

He found Sirius at the end of the ward, with Remus Lupin sitting by the bed. A steaming goblet that smelled like Christmas sat on the bedside table. 

“Professor Dumbledore,” said Sirius, noticing their visitor.

“I haven’t been your professor for over a decade. Please, call me Albus.” Dumbledore stated as he pulled up a chair. “You have my deepest apologies for not doing something about your wrongful imprisonment.” 

“Peter was more cunning than anyone thought, and Crouch certainly didn’t do anyone any favors.” Sirius sighed. “But that’s old news. I want to know what’s happened to my godson.” he demanded.

“When Voldemort attacked the Potters, I took Harry to Lily and James’ cousins, the Fentons.” Dumbledore explained.

“Fenton, I think I heard that name before…. Oh, right, Dorea and Charlus’ daughter got disowned for marrying a Fenton.” Sirius snapped his fingers.

“Yes, and Fenton was Lily’s mother’s maiden name,” said Albus. “As Harry had relation to them on both sides of his family, and the Fentons had moved to America to avoid the War, I determined that it was safest for him there. Young Harry is currently in his second year at Hogwarts with his cousin Danny, and if I didn’t know better, I would say they were brothers.”

That elicited a nostalgic chuckle from Sirius. The same had often been said about him and James.

“So, what else have I missed?” he asked.

“Harry learned he was a Metamorphmagus last year, and has been learning from Nymphadora how to use his talent.” 

“I had forget about that,” Remus admitted. “He would change his hair whenever one of us was with him.” A faint smile crossed his lined face.

“Anything else? I don’t have any children I don’t know about, do I?” Sirius said the last part worriedly. 

“No children,” Albus chuckled, “but your brother Regulus conceived a son shortly before his death. He is currently at Hogwarts.”

“Let me guess, another Black in Slytherin?” Sirius said darkly.

“As a matter of fact, no, he is a Gryffindor like his uncle.” Sirius’ eyes widened. “And It has recently come to light that your brother was not who we thought he was.” Dumbledore withdrew a small stack of parchment and handed them to Sirius. By the time he was finished reading them. Tears were welling in his eyes. 

“So, he was on our side this whole time.”

“Indeed, and it is to my greatest regret that I did not realize it until it was far too late.”

“You can’t save everyone.” Remus said sagely. 

 

_ February 14, 1993 _

Valentine’s Day, a day of romance and commercialism, unless you’re single and part of American law enforcement. It was day to express infatuation with lavish romantic displays.

For Danny Fenton, it was a chance to hex anyone who hit on his sister.

The situation was not helped by Lockhart, as was the case with many things that year.

When Danny walked into the Great Hall that Sunday morning, accompanied by a bleary-eyed Harry, the cousins had to do a double-take to make sure they hadn’t gone through the wrong doors.

The walls were all covered with large, lurid pink flowers. Worse still. Heart-shaped confetti was falling from the pale blue ceiling. Danny was reminded of the decor described by Jazz when she saw Madam Puddifoot’s Tea House last year during that same weekend. The duo made their way over to the Gryffindor table, where Ron and Neville looked sick, while Hermione was dealing poorly with a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Harry asked. Danny had to wipe the confetti off his bacon, and get a fresh goblet, one that didn’t have confetti floating in the pumpkin juice.

Ron and Neville pointed to the teachers’ table, too overcome with disgust to speak. Lockhart was wearing pink robes for which the adjectives  _ lurid _ and  _ gaudy  _ did not do justice, while the teachers around him looked stone-faced. McGonagall looked to be grinding her teeth, while Snape looked like he had been force-fed Skele-Gro.

Lockhart stood up and called for silence. “Happy Valentine’s Day!” he shouted. “And may I thank the forty-six people who have so far sent me cards! Yes, I have taken the liberty of arranging this little surprise for you all - and it doesn’t end here!” 

“What can be worse that Madam Puddifoot’s throwing up over the great hall?” Danny muttered. He got his answer a second later.

Lockhart clapped his hands and through the doors to the entrance hall marched a dozen surly-looking dwarfs. Of course, since dwarfs weren’t very festive for Valentine’s Day, Lockhart had them dressed as cupids, with golden wings and harps.

“My friendly, card-carrying cupids!” beamed Lockhart. “They will be roving around the school today delivering your valentines! And the fun doesn’t stop here! Why not ask Professor Snape to show you how to whip up a Love Potion! And while you’re at it, Professor Flitwick knows more about Entrancing Enchantments than any wizard I’ve ever met, the sly old dog!”

“Did he just admit to not being able to do something?” Harry asked incredulously. 

Professor Flitwick buried his face in his hands, while looked ready to force-feed poison to the first person to ask him for a Love Potion.

A very unpleasant idea formed in Danny’s head. 

“Please, Hermione, tell me you weren’t one of the forty-six,” said Ron as they left the Great Hall.

“Of course not, I’ve been re-reading his books and there are just too many inconsistencies,” defended Hermione. “There is no way he could be in Thailand, Scandinavia, and Australia during the same full moon. And the Wagga Wagga Werewolf didn’t fit the description of an actual werewolf. It looked more like a person transfigured into a wolf.”

As they went through the day, the dwarfs kept harassing the students to deliver their valentines, to the general annoyance of the students and staff. Danny saw Jazz receive a valentine and throw it away with a look of pure disgust. Danny picked it up from the floor and read it.

The second he finished reading it, the valentine was engulfed in green flames while Danny’s eyes flared.

“PEEVES!” He bellowed. The poltergeist phased through a wall and floated in front of Danny. 

“Yes, my liege?” He asked, leering.

“Would you kindly do something to repay McLaggan for the valentine he sent my sister.” The spiteful tone of his voice made his meaning clear, and the poltergeist saluted before flying off cackling. 

An hour later, Cormac McLaggen, the obnoxious Gryffindor third-year, had a suit of armor fall on him. It was sheer bad luck that Lockhart came by and tried to heal him. 

McLaggen would be spending the night in the hospital wing regrowing the bones in his leg. 


	22. Rounding Out the Year

_ April 1, 1993 _

Danny and Harry were currently in the Trophy Room, hiding from the mayhem that had been unleashed on Hogwarts in the form of Fred and George’s birthday. The latest of Hogwarts’ Prank Lords had a tradition of pranking the entire school to celebrate their day of birth. 

A situation that was not helped by it being the First of April, or more colloquially, April-Fools Day. As such, most of the castle had been embroiled in a massive prank war. It was definitely a crazy Thursday. 

The Great Prank War of ‘93 began with a mass Color-Change Charm that left everyone wearing their House Colors on their skin. Not even the Teachers had been spared. Snape looked like the Wicked Witch of the West, while Dumbledore looked like a golden statue with a crimson beard. 

That had been the start of the insanity.

Peeves had taken to dropping water balloons filled with fish on the heads of anyone who passed too close in the hallways. Someone had animated random suits of armor to leap out and demand duels from those trying to get past them. 

Lockhart had entered the Second Year’s Defense class with several ugly gray crawfish hanging from his robes, with at least one pinching his neck. The austentatious teacher proceeded to trip on his own robes no less than seven times before making it to his own desk. 

It was certainly the most enjoyable Defense class Danny had experienced that year. 

Potions had been far less enjoyable, as the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry came to a head. It took all of a minute for the first cauldron to be sabotaged. The class had to be cut halfway through because of the thick, multicolored smoke that filled the air with the stench of carrion.

With a free hour, the cousins decided to get out of the way of the rampant insanity. The safest place to do so was the Trophy Room, which was more or less out of the way and not visited by students as often as one would imagine. The large scale prank war had them on higher alert than usual, which meant Danny did not hesitate to hurl a ball of green fire at the first unnatural sound he picked up. 

There a small explosion, and the victim of the fireball clattered to his feet.

Tom Riddle’s Award for Special Services to the School had a large chunk of the metal blasted off, the edges blackened and burned. 

“Eh, good riddance,” was all Harry had to say.

 

_ April 17, 1993 _

During the Easter holidays, the second years were given the task of determining which electives they would be taking for their third year through OWLs. Out of everyone in Gryffindor, Hermione took it the most seriously.

“It could affect our whole future,” she told her friends as they pored over the lists of new subjects, marking them with checks.

“I just want to give up Potions,” muttered Neville, who was going through a large number of letters with varying recommendations.

“We can’t,” said Ron gloomily. “We keep all our old subjects, or I’d’ve ditched Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

“But that’s very important!” Hermione exclaimed.

“Not the way Lockhart teaches it,” said Ron. “I haven’t learned anything from him except not to set pixies loose.”

“Well, he did show us what a Mackled Malaclaw bite looks like.” Harry noted. That earned a chuckle from Ron and Danny.

“Is Arithmancy more difficult than Ancient Runes?” Neville asked.

“Arithmancy is the magic of math, Runes is the written language of magic. You’re probably better off taking Ancient Runes.” Danny said, ticking off the box for Ancient Runes on his own list.

Hermione ignored any advice she was given and just signed up for everything. Danny muttered that he would see about getting Jazz’s notes, as she had done the same thing, the overachiever.

Divination sounded useful, and if nothing else, it would be less work than Arithmancy. So everyone in the group chose it. 

Remembering the incident toward the end of his first year in the Forbidden Forest, Danny signed up for Care of Magical Creatures. Danny had a good grasp of mathematics, but he was not about to fill his schedule completely, besides, from what Jazz and his parents had said, Runes did involve a degree of Arithmancy, but it was not necessary to take both.

Except for Hermione, the quintet would be taking Divination, Care of Magical Creatures, and Study of Ancient Runes. Hermione would be taking every class, so Danny discreetly gave her Jazz’s old notes for how she had managed the twelve-class load.

 

_ May 23, 1993 _

Albus Dumbledore set Tom Riddle’s Diary on his desk with a sigh. He had spent the past months interrogating it on everything Tom had known and planned. The only one he feared now knew more about the inner workings of Voldemort’s mind than any Death Eater. The Diary had contained more than just the instructions to access the Chamber of Secrets and unleash the Basilisk, it carried the the school history of Tom Riddle, how an apparent muggleborn wormed his way into the Knights of Walpurgis and became their King. 

The Knights of Walpurgis had been started by Cantankerous Nott during his time at Hogwarts, an elite club for only the ‘purest’ of purebloods. Only twenty-six families were known to have members in the Knights. While there was no definitive proof on the identity of the author of the  _ Pure-Blood Directory _ , it was too much of a coincidence that every member of the original Knights found their family names on the so called  _ Sacred Twenty-Eight _ . The Gaunts and the Ollivanders had been included on the list for, respectively, being the single ‘purest’ line in Britain, and for being the providers of wands for every witch and wizard in the nation.

Tom Riddle had found out his mother was from the House of Gaunt, and used those credentials in conjunction with his academic brilliance and cultivated charisma to achieve a membership in the Knights. From there, he gained influence until he had every last member of the Knights at Hogwarts wrapped around his finger. 

Among the memories recorded in the Diary were his explorations of Hogwarts Castle and grounds. He had spent an unhealthy amount of time exploring the dungeons, and even further down, until he had come across a pipe that lead to the Chamber of Secrets. From there, he had traced the plumbing to the first floor girls lavatory, and marked the location of the entrance with the etching of a serpent. The last memory of the Tom Riddle in the Diary was setting the Basilisk on Myrtle Warren, and performing the Horcrux ritual.

Dumbledore figured that Tom had stopped writing in the Diary once it had been imbued with half of his soul, and did not want to risk undoing the ritual that had created a tether to prevent his death.

With the Diary having outlived its usefulness to Albus, there was only thing left to do with it. 

Dumbledore took the Diary to a chamber that sat hidden to the side of his office, a stone chamber lined with shelves of materials, an old worktable sitting in the center. Albus left the Diary on the table, and pulled three jars from different parts of the room. The first two jars were filled with powdery and granular substances, one an eggshell white, the other a toxic green. The third jar was filled with a viscous, silvery liquid. In a small bowl, he mixed the first two materials and spooned the mixture onto the center of the Diary’s cover. The third jar, he used another spoon to drip three drops of the silvery fluid onto the mixture, which reacted.

A green fire burst out on the cover of the Diary, burning through leather and paper as the Horcrux within  _ screamed _ . The leather curled at the corners, as did the paper, until the fire had burned through to the table, where ancient runic arrays activated and extinguished the fire. 

Albus thanked his old friend Flamel for teaching him the art and science of Alchemy as he replaced the jars to their proper, safe positions. 

As he banished the remains of the Diary to his office, he drew from a hidden compartment in the wall a blood red stone with flecks of gold inside it. A wave of his wand, and a few dozen bars of lead appeared on the worktable. 

“Voldemort did much to damage our society,” he said to himself. “The halls of Hogwarts have been so empty for almost a decade, but next year will be the first year for students born after the war. Those  _ were _ quite some parties they had.” Albus had submerged the stone in heated mercury, which now glowed a golden white. With a wave of his hand, the shimmering elixir rose from it’s crucible and gathered into a ball, which he shifted over the stacks of lead bullion. Carefully, he lowered the amorphous sphere to envelope the bars, where the elixir sunk into the metal with a shimmering light. When the glow faded, the Headmaster was looking at a large stack of gold. A soft smile played across his face as his thoughts turned to the changes that he could make to his school. 

There were far too many empty classrooms for his liking. 

Of course, there was still the matter of Lockhart, Albus thought. The man was just too stubborn to leave, even after being nearly killed on several occasions and getting a  _ truly _ unhealthy dose of Mackled Malaclaw Venom.

A grimace crossed his face as an idea came to him. As loath as he was to deal with her, desperate times called for desperate measures.

 

_ June 21, 1993 _

Term had ended, and the students were packing up to board the Hogwarts Express. The topic on everyone’s minds was the scandal that had forced Lockhart on the run. Rita Skeeter had written a vicious series of articles denouncing Lockhart as a fraud, and unlike her usual fare, every last statement was true. 

The so-called ‘Wagga Wagga Werewolf’ had in fact been a wolf animagus with a nasty sense of humor, something that was obvious to any werewolf or person who dealt with one, as the Homorphus Charm was for reversing the animagus transformation, and did nothing for werewolves. More than that, Lockhart had never interacted with him, as it was an Armenian Warlock who had ended his fun. Said warlock was found to have a serious case of amnesia consistent with an overpowered Memory Charm. 

Similar cases had been found near every location Lockhart had mentioned in his stories, and there was enough evidence to have him arrested for Serial Unsanctioned Obliviation. Lockhart had fled the school on broom, leaving his office in hastily-packed shambles and forgetting most of his clothes, books, portraits, and even a wig. 

Danny sarcastically wished the fraud the best of luck. 

 

~~AWS~~

 

With an hour left before he had to be on the train, Danny took the opportunity to pay one last visit to the Chamber of Secrets.He stared at the wall with the faded glyph. 

“ _ /What is behind this wall?/ _ ” Danny hissed in irritation.

_ /The Secret will be revealed when you awaken, my Phantom./ _ Sciath hissed in reply from behind him.

“ _ /What do you mean, awaken?/ _ ” Danny hissed in confusion.

_ /You will know when it happens, and it will happen soon./ _

No wiser than when he had entered, Danny left the Chamber after promising Salazar he would be back in September, and got to the Express just before it left.

The trip to London was mostly uneventful, save for Malfoy’s semi-annual attempt at intimidation, which was quickly ended when the Slytherin Trio found themselves with nine wands pointed at them. 

When they arrived at King’s Cross, they disembarked back into the muggle world. The Fentons were standing with Sirius and a brown haired man who showed signs of premature aging. Jack and Maddie were chatting amicably with the latter while Sirius was keeping an eye out for the children.

Ron and Ginny joined the cluster of redheads, while Luna met up with her father, who looked to be Jack Fenton’s age with shaggy blonde hair that matched Luna’s own. Colin went to a similarly brown-haired non-magic couple with an excited nine-year old in tow. Jazz led Harry, Danny, and Leonis to their family. Sirius gave a soft smile to his nephew, who was the spitting image of his brother.

 

~~AWS~~

 

A pair of steel blue eyes glowed red, and a cruel smirk played across the face to which they belonged.

“Well, little badger. The game is afoot, and this time, black makes the first move.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To Be Continued in A World Unseen: Vol II - Year Three: Awakenings and Revelations.


End file.
